—  r- 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 


ffltt  OF  CALIF.  LIBKAKY,  LOS 


BOOKS  BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 

BARNABETTA 

BETROTHAL  OF  ELYPHOLATE,   AND  OTHER 
TALES  OF  THE  PENNSYLVANIA  DUTCH 

CROSSWAYS 

ELUSIVE  HlLDEGARDE 

THE  FIGHTING  DOCTOR 

His  COURTSHIP 

MARTHA  OF  THE  MENNONITE  COUNTRY 

THE  PARASITE 

REVOLT  OF  ANNE  ROYLE 

SABINA,  STORY  OF  THE  AMISH 

TILLIE,  A  MENNONITE  MAID 

WARREN  HYDE 

WHEN  HALF-GODS  Go 


THE  COUNTRY  LIFE   PRESS 
GARDEN   CITY,   N.  Y. 


"Oh!  "  her  voice  rippled  with  laughter,  "this  is  the 
twentieth  century  A.  D.,not  B.  c.,  Daniel  " 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 


BY 
HELEN  R.  MARTIN 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 

JOHN  NEWTON  HOWITT 


GARDEN  CITY  NEW  YORK 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 
1916 


Copyright,  19 16,  by 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

All  rights  reserved,  including  that  of 

translation  into  foreign  languages, 

including  the  Scandinavian 


COPYRIGHT,  1915,  1916,  SMITH  PUBLISHING  HOUSE 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

"  Oh! "  her  voice  rippled  with  laughter,  "  this  is  the 
twentieth  century  A.  D.,  not  B.  C.,  Daniel " 
(see  page  180) Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 

" '  Benefactor'  ?  "  she  read,  "  *  a  doer  of  kindly 
deeds;  a  friendly  helper.'  You  see,  I'm  your 
benefactor,  according  to  the  Standard  "  .  .  .  50 

Margaret  suddenly  laid  down  her  napkin  and  rushed 
from  the  room,  every  nerve  in  her  sick  and 
quivering  with  the  physical  and  moral  disgust 
she  felt 220 

"You  will  be  glad  to  know,  Jennie,  that  I  have 
persuaded  mother  to  spend  the  night  with  us," 
Margaret  said 272 


S4 503 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 


THE  Pennsylvania  town  of  New  Munich  was  elec- 
trified by  the  sudden  and  entirely  unlooked-for 
announcement  of  the  betrothal  of  Daniel  Leit- 
zel,  Esquire;  but  his  two  maiden  sisters  with  whom  he  lived, 
and  to  whom  the  news  was  also  wholly  unexpected,  were 
appalled,  confounded.  That  Danny  should  have  taken 
such  a  step  independently  of  them  (who  did  all  his  thinking 
for  him  outside  of  his  profession)  was  a  cataclysmal  epi- 
sode. Of  course  it  never  would  have  happened  without 
their  knowledge  if  Danny  had  not  been  temporarily  away 
from  his  home  on  business  and  far  removed  from  their 
watchful  care — watchful  these  twenty  years  past  that  no 
designing  Jezebel  might  get  a  chance  at  the  great  fortune 
of  their  petted  little  brother — though  it  must  be  admitted 
that  Danny  was  by  this  time  of  a  marriageable  age,  being 
just  turned  forty-five. 

"To  think  he'd  leave  us  learn  about  it  in  the  newspapers 
yet,  sooner  'n  he'd  come  home  and  face  us  with  it !  Yes, 
it  looks  anyhow  as  if  he  was  ashamed  of  the  girl  he's  picked 
out!"  exclaimed  Jennie,  a  stern  and  uncompromising  spin- 
ster of  sixty,  as  she  and  her  sister  Sadie,  sitting  in  the 

[3] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

elaborately  furnished  and  quite  hideous  sitting-room  of 
their  big,  fine  house  on  Main  Street,  stared  in  consterna- 
tion at  the  glaring  headlines  of  the  New  Munich  Evening 
Intelligencer,  which  announced,  in  type  that  to  the  sisters 
seemed  letters  of  flame,  the  upsetting  news  of  their  idol- 
ized brother  having  been  at  last  matrimonially  trapped. 
Being  confronted  with  his  betrothal  in  print  seemed  to 
make  it  hopelessly  incontrovertible.  They  might  have 
schemed  to  avert  the  impending  catastrophe  of  his  mar- 
riage (in  case  Danny  had  been  taken  in  by  an  Adventuress) 
did  not  the  Intelligencer  unequivocally  state  (and  the 
Intelligencer's  statements  were  scarcely  less  authoritative 
to  Jennie  and  Sadie  Leitzel  than  the  Bible  itself)  that 
Danny  would  be  married  to  the  Unknown  inside  of  a  month. 
If  the  Intelligencer  said  so,  it  seemed  useless  to  try  to 
stop  it. 

"To  think  he'll  be  married  to  her  already  before  we  get 
a  chance,  once,  to  look  her  over  and  tell  him  if  she'd  suit 
him!"  lamented  Sadie  who  was  five  years  younger  than 
Jennie. 

"Well,"  pronounced  Jennie,  setting  her  thin  lips  in  a 
hard  line,  "  she'll  find  out  when  she  gets  here  that  she  ain't 
getting  her  fingers  on  our  Danny's  money!  She'll  get 
fooled  if  she's  counting  on  that.  She'll  soon  learn  that  she'll 
have  to  do  with  just  what  he  likes  to  give  her  and  no 
more!  And  of  course  Danny '11  consult  us  as  to  just  how 
much  he  ought  to  leave  her  handle.  When  she  finds  out," 
Jennie  grimly  prophesied,  "that  our  Danny  always  does 
the  way  we  advise  him  to  and  that  she'll  have  to  keep  on 
the  right  side  of  us,  I  guess  she  won't  like  it  very  well ! " 

[4] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"We  can  only  hope  that  she  ain't  such  a  bold,  common 
thing  that  just  took  our  Danny  in,  that  way!"  sighed 
Sadie. 

"But  why  would  he  hurry  it  up  so,  like  as  if  he  was 
afraid  we  would  mebby  put  a  stop  to  it?  She  put  him  up 
to  fixing  it  all  tight  before  he  could  change  his  mind!" 
Jennie  shrewdly  surmised. 

"It  does  look  that  way!"  fretted  Sadie. 

Jennie,  the  elder  sister,  was  tall,  gaunt,  and  rawboned. 
Though  approaching  old  age,  her  dominating  spirit  and 
grasping  ambitions  had  preserved  her  vigour,  physically 
and  mentally.  Her  sharp  face  was  deeply  lined,  but  the 
keenness  of  her  eyes  was  undimmed,  her  shoulders  were 
erect,  her  hair  was  thick  and  black.  The  expression  of  her 
thin  slit  of  a  mouth  was  almost  relentlessly  hard. 

Sadie,  five  years  younger,  had  also  a  will  of  her  own, 
but  happily  it  had  always  operated  on  a  line  so  entirely 
in  harmony  with  that  of  her  sister,  that  they  had  lived  to- 
gether all  their  lives  without  friction,  the  younger  woman 
unconsciously  dominated  by  the  elder.  Indeed,  no  one 
could  abide  under  the  same  roof  with  Jennie  Leitzel  who 
ventured  openly  to  differ  with  her.  Fortunately,  even 
Sadie's  passion  for  dress  did  not  clash  with  Jennie's  miser- 
liness, for  Sadie,  too,  was  miserly,  and  Jennie  loved  to  see 
her  younger  sister  arrayed  gorgeously  in  cheap  finery,  her 
taste  inclining  to  that  of  a  girl  of  sixteen.  A  dormant 
mother-instinct,  too,  such  as  must  exist,  however  obscurely, 
in  every  frame  of  woman,  even  in  that  of  a  Jennie  Leitzel, 
found  an  outlet  in  coddling  Sadie's  health  and  in  minister- 
ing to  and  encouraging  a  certain  plaintiveness  in  the 

[5] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

younger  woman's  disposition.  So,  these  two  sisters,  de« 
pending  upon  and  complementing  each  other,  of  congenial 
temperaments,  and  with  but  one  common  paramount  in- 
terest in  life,  the  welfare  of  their  incomparable  younger 
brother  whom  they  had  brought  up  and  of  whom  they 
were  inordinately  proud,  lived  together  in  the  supreme 
enjoyment  of  the  high  estate  to  which  their  ambitions  and 
their  unflagging  efforts  had  uplifted  the  Leitzel  family — 
from  rural  obscurity  to  prominence  and  influence  in  their 
county  town  of  New  Munich. 

To  be  sure,  the  sisters  realized  that  they  held  what  they 
called  their  "social  position"  only  as  appendages  to  Danny 
— Danny  who  had  been  to  college,  who  was  the  head  of  a 
great  corporation  law  firm,  who  was  enormously  rich  and  a 
highly  eligible  young  man;  that  is,  he  used  to  be  young; 
and  though  New  Munich  regarded  him  as  a  confirmed  old 
bachelor,  his  sisters  still  looked  upon  him  as  a  dashing 
youth  and  a  great  matrimonial  prize.  They  were  not 
ashamed,  but  proud,  of  the  fact  that  people  tolerated  them 
because  they  were  Danny's  sisters. 

It  may  seem  strange  that  anything  calling  itself  "so- 
ciety" could  admit  women  so  crude  as  Jennie  and  Sadie, 
even  though  they  were  appendages  to  a  bait  so  dazzling 
as  Danny  Leitzel,  Esquire.  But  in  communities  where 
the  ruling  class  is  descended  from  the  Pennsylvania  Dutch, 
"society"  is  remarkably  elastic  and  has  almost  no  closed 
doors  to  the  appeal  of  wealth,  however  freighted  it  may  be 
with  vulgarity  and  illiteracy;  and,  be  it  known,  Danny's 
sisters  were  not  only  financially  independent  of  Danny, 
but  even  wealthy,  quite  in  their  own  right. 

fel 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

In  spite  of  this  fact,  however,  what  social  footing  they 
had  in  the  little  town  of  New  Munich  had  not  been  ac- 
quired so  easily  as  to  make  it  appear  to  them  other  than  a 
very  great  possession. 

As  to  the  big,  fine  house  in  which  they  lived,  it  had  been 
Danny's  money  which,  in  the  early  days  of  his  prosperity, 
had,  at  his  sisters'  instigation,  built  this  grand  dwelling 
on  the  principal  street  of  New  Munich,  to  dazzle  and  catch 
the  town. 

The  room  in  which  the  sisters  sat  to-night  would  have 
seemed  to  one  who  knew  them  a  perfect  expression  of 
themselves — its  tawdry  grandeur  speaking  loudly  of  their 
pride  in  money  and  display,  and  of,  at  the  same  time,  their 
penuriousness;  the  absence  of  books  and  of  real  pictures, 
but  the  obtrusive  decorations  of  heavy  gilt  frames  on 
chromos;  the  luridly  coloured  domestic  carpets;  heavy, 
ugly  upholstered  furniture,  manifesting  the  unfortunate 
combination  of  ample  means  with  total  absence  of 
culture.  It  would  seem  that  in  a  rightly  organized 
social  system  women  like  these  would  not  possess 
wealth,  but  would  be  serving  those  who  knew  how  to  use 
wealth. 

"To  think  our  Danny 'd  marry  a  stranger,  yet,  from 
away  down  South,  when  he  could  have  picked  out  Con- 
gressman Ocksreider's  daughter,  or  Judge  Kuntz's  oldest 
girl — or  Mamie  Gundaker  and  her  father  a  bank  president ! 
Any  of  these  high  ladies  of  New  Munich  he  could  have!" 
wailed  Sadie.  "They'd  be  only  too  glad  to  get  our  Danny! 
And  here  he  goes  and  marries  a  stranger ! " 

"It  ain't  like   him   that  he'd  up  and   do  this  thing 

[7] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

behind  our  backs,  without  askin'  our  adwice!"  Jennie 
exclaimed. 

"Think  of  the  grand  wedding  we  could  have  had  here 
in  New  Munich!"  Sadie  sighed. 

"And  we  don't  even  know  if  she's  well-fixed  or  poor!" 
cried  Jennie  in  a  wildly  worried  tone. 

"But  I  hardly  think,"  Sadie  tried  to  comfort  her,  "that 
Danny  would  pick  out  a  poor  girl.  Nor  a  common  one, 
either,  so  genteel  as  what  we  raised  him ! " 

"But  men  get  so  easy  fooled  with  women,  Sadie!  If 
she's  smart,  she  could  easy  come  over  Danny." 

"Unless  he  got  stubborn-headed  for  her." 

"Well,"  admitted  Jennie,  "to  be  sure  Danny  can  get 
awful  stubborn-headed  sometimes.  But  if  she's  smart  and 
found  out  how  rich  he  is,  she'd  take  care  not  to  get  him 
stubborn-headed. ' ' 

"Yes,  that's  so,  too,"  nodded  Sadie.  "I  wonder  if  she's 
a  fancy  dresser?" 

Sadie's  love  of  clothes  was  second  only  to  her  devotion 
to  Danny.  She  was  dressed  this  evening  in  a  girlish  Em- 
pire gown  made  of  red  cheesecloth. 

"What  will  folks  say  to  this  news,  anyhow?"  scolded 
Jennie.  "I'll  have  a  shamed  face  to  go  on  the  street,  us 
not  knowing  anything  about  it,  not  even  who  she  is  yet! 
If  folks  ast  us,  Sadie,  we  must  leave  on  we  did  know — we'll 
just  say,  'Oh,  it  ain't  news  to  us  /" 

"But  how  could  we  know  much  when  Danny  himself 
has  knew  her  only  a  little  over  a  month,  Jennie?  " 

"Yes,  don't  it,  now,  beat  all?" 

"Yes,  don't  it!" 

[8] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"That  shows  what  she  is — marrying  a  man  she  knew 
only  a  month  or  so!" 

"Well,  to  be  sure,  it  wouldn't  take  her  even  a  month, 
Jennie,  to  see  what  a  catch  our  Danny  is." 

"If  she  does  turn  out  to  be  a  common  person,"  said  Jen- 
nie with  her  most  purse-proud  look  and  tone,  "she's  any- 
how got  to  act  genteel  before  folks  and  not  give  Danny  and 
us  a  shamed  face  here  in  New  Munich — high  up  as  we've 
raised  our  Danny  and  hard  as  we  worked  to  do  it 
yet!" 

"Yes,  the  idea!"  mourned  Sadie. 

"Yes,  the  very  idea!"  nodded  Jennie  vindictively. 
"I  shouldn't  wonder,"  she  added  anxiously,  always  con- 
cerned for  her  sister's  health  which  was  really  quite  re- 
markably perfect,  "if  this  shock  give  you  the  headache, 
Sadie!" 

"I  shouldn't  wonder!"     Sadie  shook  her  head  sadly. 

"Read  me  off  the  piece  in  the  paper  and  see  what  it 
says  all,"  Jennie  ordered.  "But  sit  so  the  light  don't 
give  you  the  headache." 

Sadie,  adjusting  her  spectacles  and  turning  on  the  elec- 
tric table  lamp  at  her  elbow,  read  the  glaring  article  which 
had  that  evening  appeared  on  the  first  page  of  their  daily 
paper  and  which  every  household  in  New  Munich  was, 
they  knew,  now  reading  with  feelings  of  astonishment, 
curiosity,  disappointment  or  chagrin,  as  the  case  might  be, 
for  the  sisters  were  sure  that  many  heartaches  among 
the  marriageable  maidens  of  the  town  would  be  caused  by 
the  news  that  Danny  was  no  longer  within  their  possible 
reach.  These  twenty-five  years  past  he  and  his  gold  had 

[9] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

been  dangling  before  them — and  now  to  have  him  appro- 
priated, without  warning,  by  a  non-resident ! 
The  article  was  headed  in  large  type: 

"ONE  MORE  VICTIM  OF  CUPID'S  DARTS- 
DANIEL  LEITZEL  LED  LIKE  A  LAMB 
TO  HYMEN'S  ALTAR." 

Sadie  breathed  heavily  as  she  read : 

In  a  communication  received  at  this  office  to-day 
from  our  esteemed  fellow-citizen,  Daniel  Leitzel,  Esquire, 
sojourning  for  the  past  four  weeks  in  the  balmy  South,  we 
are  informed  of  his  engagement  and  impending  marriage 
to  "a  young  lady  of  distinguished  Southern  lineage,"  one 
who,  we  may  feel  sure,  will  grace  very  acceptably  the  social 
circle  here  of  which  Mr.  Leitzel  is  such  a  prominent,  pros- 
perous, and  pleasant  member.  The  news  comes  to  our 
town  as  a  great  surprise,  for  we  had  almost  begun  to  give 
Danny  up  as  a  hopeless  bach.  He  will,  however,  lead 
his  bride  to  Hymen's  altar  early  next  month  and  bring 
her  straightway  to  his  palatial  residence  on  Main  Street, 
presided  over  by  his  estimable  sisters,  Miss  Jennie  and  Miss 
Sadie.  New  Munich  offers  its  congratulations  to  her  es- 
teemed fellow-citizen,  though  some  of  us  wonder  why  he 
found  it  necessary  to  go  so  far  away  to  find  a  wife, 
with  so  many  lovely  ladies  here  in  his  native  town 
to  choose  from.  Love,  however,  we  all  know,  is  a 
capricious  mistress  and  none  may  guess  whither  she  may 
lead. 

The  happy  and  fortunate  lady,  Miss  Margaret  Berke- 
ley of  Berkeley  Hill,  a  distinguished  and  picturesque 
old  colonial  homestead  two  miles  out  of  Charleston, 

[10] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

S.  C.,  is,  we  are  informed,  a  lineal  descendant  on  her  moth- 
er's side  of  two  governors  of  her  native  state  and  the  niece 
of  the  learned  scholar  and  eminent  psychologist,  the 
late  Dr.  Osmond  Berkeley,  with  whom  Miss  Margaret 
made  her  home  at  Berkeley  Hill  until  his  decease  a  year 
ago,  since  which  sad  event  she  has  continued  to  reside 
at  this  same  homestead,  her  married  sister  and  family 
living  with  her,  this  sister  being  the  wife  of  a  Charleston 
attorney  with  whom  Daniel  Leitzel,  Esquire,  has  been 
conducting  some  legal  railroad  business  in  Charleston  and 
through  whom  our  esteemed  fellow-citizen,  it  seems,  met 
his  happy  doom. 

New  Munich's  most  aristocratic  society  will  anticipate 
with  pleasurable  interest  the  arrival  of  the  happy  bride 
and  groom,  Mrs.  and  Mr.  Daniel  Leitzel.  No  doubt 
many  very  elegant  society  events  will  take  place  this 
winter  in  honour  of  the  newcomer  among  us;  for  New 
Munich  is  noted  for  its  hospitality. 


"It  don't  say,"  Jennie  sharply  remarked,  "whether 
she's  well-fixed — though  to  be  sure  if  she  comes  from  such 
high  people  they'd  have  to  be  rich." 

"But  her  grand  relations  are  all  deceased,  the  paper 
says,"  returned  Sadie  despondently.  "You  may  better 
believe,  Jennie,  if  she  had  money,  Danny  would  have  told 
the  noospapers." 

"  It  says  in  the  paper  she's  living  with  her  married  sister, 
and  it  looks  to  me,"  Jennie  shrewdly  surmised,  "as  if  her 
brother-in-law  (that  lawyer  Danny  had  dealings  with) 
wanted  to  get  rid  of  her  and  worked  her  off  on  our  Danny. 
Or  else  that  she  took  up  with  Danny  to  get  a  home  of  her 
own." 

[11] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"Do  you  think  Danny  could  be  so  easy  worked?"  Sadie 
doubtfully  inquired. 

"He's  a  man,"  Jennie  affirmed  conclusively  (though 
there  were  those  among  Danny's  acquaintances  who  would 
not  have  agreed  with  Jennie);  "and  any  man  can  be 
worked." 

"You  think?" 

"To  be  sure.  Danny  would  have  been  roped  in  long 
ago  a'ready  if  I  hadn't  of  opened  his  eyes  to  it,  still,  when 
he  was  being  worked." 

"Yes,  I  guess,"  agreed  Sadie.  "Say,  Jennie,  what'll 
Hiram  say  when  he  hears  it,  I  wonder! " 

Hiram  was  their  brother  next  in  age  to  Jennie,  who, 
upon  the  family's  sudden,  unexpected  access  to  wealth 
thirty-five  years  before,  through  the  discovery  of  coal  on 
some  farm  land  they  owned,  had  been  a  young  farmer 
working  in  the  fields,  and  had  immediately  decided  to  use 
his  share  of  the  money  obtained  from  leasing  the  coal  land 
to  prepare  himself  for  what  had  then  seemed  to  him  a 
dizzy  height  of  ambition,  the  highest  human  calling,  the 
United  Brethren  ministry.  For  twenty  years  now  he 
had  been  pastor  of  a  small  church  in  the  neighbouring  bor- 
ough of  Millerstown.  His  sisters  were  very  proud  to  have 
a  brother  who  was  "a  preacher."  It  was  so  respectable. 
They  never  failed  to  feel  a  thrill  at  sight  of  his  printed 
name  in  an  occasional  number  of  the  Millerstown  New 
Era — "Rev.  Hiram  Leitzel."  But  Hiram  did  not,  of 
course,  hold  Danny's  high  place  in  their  regard;  Danny, 
their  little  brother  whom  they  had  reared  and  who  had 
repaid  them  by  such  a  successful  career  in  money-making 

[121 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

that  he  had,  at  the  age  of  forty-five,  accumulated  a  for- 
tune many  times  larger  than  that  he  had  inherited. 

"Hiram  will  take  it  awful  hard  that  Danny's  getting 
married,"  affirmed  Jennie.  "He'd  like  you  and  me  an 
Danny,  too,  to  will  our  money  to  his  children.  He  always 
hoped,  I  think,  that  Danny  wouldn't  ever  get  married,  so's 
his  children  would  get  all.  To  be  sure  the  ministry  ain't 
a  money-making  calling  and  Hiram  has  jealous  feelings 
over  Danny  that  he's  so  rich  and  keeps  getting  richer. 
Hiram  likes  money,  too,  as  much  as  Danny  does." 

"I  wonder,"  speculated  Sadie,  "if  Danny's  picked 
out  as  saving  and  hard-working  a  wife  as  what  Hiram's 
got." 

The  characteristic  Leitzel  caution  that  Hiram  had  ex- 
ercised in  "picking  out"  a  wife  had  prolonged  his  bachelor- 
hood far  into  middle  life.  He  had  now  been  married  ten 
years  and  had  four  children. 

Keenly  as  the  Leitzels  loved  money,  none  of  them,  not 
even  Hiram  himself,  had  ever  regretted  his  going  into  the 
ministry.  It  gave  him  the  kind  of  importance  in  the  little 
borough  of  Millerstown  that  was  manna  to  the  Leitzel 
egotism.  Hiram  really  thought  of  himself  (as  in  his 
youth  he  had  always  looked  upon  ministers)  as  a  kind  of 
demigod;  and  as  the  people  of  Millerstown  and  even  his 
own  wife  treated  him  as  though  he  were  one,  he  lived  in 
the  complacent  enjoyment  of  his  delusion. 

He  had  greatly  pleased  his  sisters  and  his  brother  Daniel 
by  marrying  the  daughter  of  the  richest  man  in  his  congre- 
gation, and  they  all  approved  of  the  frugality  by  which  he 
and  his  wife  managed  to  live  on  the  little  salary  he  drew 

[13] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

from  his  church,  letting  his  inherited  wealth  and  that  of 
his  wife  accumulate  for  the  children. 

"It  ain't  likely,"  Jennie  replied  to  Sadie's  speculation, 
"that  Danny's  marrying  as  well  as  Hiram  married,  when 
he's  acting  without  our  adwice." 

"No,  I  guess  anyhow  not,"  agreed  Sadie.  "Say,  Jen- 
nie!" she  suddenly  whispered  mysteriously. 

"Well,  what?" 

"Will  we  leave  Mom  know  about  Danny's  getting 
married?" 

"Well,  to  be  sure  she'll  have  to  find  it  out,"  Jennie 
curtly  answered.  "It'll  mebby  be  printed  in  the  County 
Gazette  and  she  sees  that  sometimes." 

"Say,  Jennie,  if  Danny's  wife  is  a  way -up  lady,  what'll 
she  think  of  Mom  yet,  with  her  New  Mennonite  garb  and 
her  Dutch  talk  that  way,  and  all!  My  goodness!" 

"Well,  a  body  can't  help  for  their  step-mothers,  I 
guess!" 

"But  she's  so  wonderful  common  and  ignorant.  I 
guess  Danny  would  be  ashamed  to  leave  his  wife  see  her. 
And  his  wife  would  laugh  so  at  her  clothes  and  her  talk!" 

"But  how  would  his  wife  ever  get  a  chance  to  see  her? 
We  don't  ever  have  Mom  in  here  and  we  never  take  any 
one  out  to  see  her." 

"That's  so,  too,"  Sadie  acquiesced. 

"I  guess  Hiram'll  press  it  more'n  ever  now  that  we'd 
ought  to  put  Mom  to  the  poorhouse  and  rent  our  old 
home.  The  land  would  bring  a  good  rent,  he  says,  and 
we've  no  call  to  leave  her  live  on  it  free  any  longer.  But 
I  tell  Hiram  it  would  make  talk  if  we  put  her  to  the  poor- 

[14] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

house.  Hardly  any  one  knows  we  got  a  step-mother,  and 
we  don't  want  to  start  any  talk." 

"Yes,  well,  but  how  could  they  blame  us  when  she  ain't 
our  own  mother?"  Sadie  protested. 

"But  you  know  how  she  brags  about  us  so  proud  to  her 
neighbours  out  there  in  Martz  Township — just  as  if  we 
was  her  own  sons  and  daughters — and  tells  'em  how 
grand  we  live  and  how  much  Danny  is  thought  of  and  how 
smart  he  is  and  what  fine  sermons  Hiram  preaches  and 
how  she  kep'  us  all  when  we  were  little  while  Pop  drank 
so  and  we  hadn't  anything  but  what  she  earned  at  the 
wash-tub!  Yes,"  said  Jennie  indignantly,  "she  tells  it 
all  right  out  perfectly  shameless  and  anybody  to  hear  her 
talk  would  think  we  was  her  own  flesh  and  blood!" 

"Yes,  it  often  worries  me  the  way  the  folks  out  there 
talk  down  on  us  and  say  she  always  treated  us  like  her 
own  and  we  always  treated  her  like  a  step-mother!"  fretted 
Sadie. 

"Well,  I  guess  we  needn't  mind  what  such  common,  poor 
country  folks  say  about  us!"  sneered  Jennie.  "All  the 
same" — she  suddenly  lowered  her  voice  apprehensively — 
"we  darsent  start  folks  talking,  or  first  thing  we  know 
they'll  be  saying  we  cheated  Mom  out  of  her  widow's  third 
because  she  was  too  ignorant  to  claim  it!" 

"How  would  they  have  dare  to  say  that  when  the  land 
come  from  our  own  mother  in  the  first  place?"  pleaded 
Sadie.  "And  Danny  always  says  we've  got  our  moral 
right  to  all  the  money  even  if  we  haven't  the  legal  right." 

"Yes,  and  he  always  says,  too,  that  if  we  ain't  awful 
careful  we'll  have  a  lawsuit  yet,  and  be  forced  to  give  a 

[15] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

lot  of  our  money  over  to  Mom !  Yes,  I  often  say  to  Hiram, 
'Better  leave  sleeping  dogs  lay,'  I  say,  'and  not  go  tryin' 
to  put  Mom  into  the  poorhouse.' " 

"Yes,  I  guess  anyhow  then!"  breathed  Sadie. 

"By  to-morrow" — Jennie  veered  off  from  the  precarious 
topic  of  their  step-mother,  for  here  was  ice  too  thin  for 
even  private  family  handling — "we'll  be  getting  a  letter 
from  Danny  giving  us  the  details.  Say,  Sadie,  if  he  don't 
offer  to  pay  our  way,  I  ain't  using  my  money  to  travel  that 
far  to  his  wedding." 

"Nor  me,  either,"  said  Sadie.  "Do  you  think,  Jennie," 
she  anxiously  asked,  "folks  will  talk  at  our  still  keeping 
house  for  Danny  when  he's  married?  You  know  how 
Danny  always  made  us  promise  we'd  stay  by  him,  married 
or  single?" 

Jennie  sniffed.  "As  if  he  could  get  along  without  us! 
As  if  any  one  else  could  learn  his  ways  and  how  he  likes 
things — and  him  so  particular  about  his  little  comforts! 
He  wouldn't  leave  us  go  away!  And  look  at  what  he 
saves  with  us  paying  half  the  household  expenses!" 

"And  as  for  his  wife's  not  liking  it "  began  Sadie. 

"As  for  her,"  Jennie  sharply  put  in,  "she's  coming  here 
without  asking  us  if  we  like  it — she'll  be  put  in  her  place 
right  from  the  start." 

"But  if  she's  got  money  of  her  own  mebby,"  Sadie  sug- 
gested doubtfully,  "she  could  be  independent,  too,  then." 

"  Well,  to  be  sure  she'd  put  her  money  in  her  husband's 
care,  wouldn't  she? — and  him  a  lawyer." 

"A  body  couldn't  be  sure  she'd  do  that  till  they  saw 
once  what  kind  of  a  person  she  was,  Jennie." 

[16] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"Well,"  Jennie  stoutly  maintained,  "Danny '11  see  that 
she  does." 

It  will  be  noted  that  the  story  of  Miss  Berkeley's  "dis- 
tinguished lineage"  did  not  greatly  impress  Jennie  and 
Sadie  Leitzel.  They  did  not  quite  understand  it.  They 
knew  nothing  about  such  a  thing  as  a  distinguished 
lineage;  New  Munich  "aristocrats"  certainly  did  not  have 
any;  and  the  sisters'  experiences  being  limited  to  life  as  it 
was  in  New  Munich,  whose  "first  families"  were  such 
only  by  reason  of  their  "means,"  Sadie  and  Jennie  were 
ignorant  of  any  other  measure  of  excellence.  To  be  poor 
and  at  the  same  time  of  any  significance,  was  a  combina- 
tion unknown  to  them. 

As  the  newspapers  did  not  state  how  closely  those  an- 
cestral governors  were  related  to  Miss  Berkeley,  the  rela- 
tionship was  undoubtedly  so  distant  as  to  be  negligible. 

The  one  thing  that  would  have  softened  their  attitude 
toward  their  new  relative  would  have  been  an  unequivocal 
statement  as  to  the  firm  financial  standing  of  her  family. 
And  on  that  point  the  newspaper,  though  furnished  by 
Daniel  himself  with  the  facts,  was  ominously  silent.  The 
conclusion  was  unmistakable.  She  was  certainly  penni- 
less. 

It  was  not  greatly  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  Leitzels 
worshipped  money.  It  was  money  that  had  done  every- 
thing for  them:  it  had  rescued  them  from  a  fearful  struggle 
for  a  bare  existence  on  a  small,  heavily  mortgaged  farm; 
it  had  freed  them  from  the  grind  of  slavish  labour;  from  an 
obscurity  that  had  been  bitterly  humiliating  to  the  self- 
esteem  and  the  ambition  which  was  characteristic  of  every 

f  171 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

one  of  them.  It  was  money  that  had  given  them  power, 
place,  influence;  that  made  their  fellowmen  treat  them  with 
deference  and  relieved  them  from  the  necessity  of  treating 
any  one  else  with  deference.  They  knew  of  no  worth  in  life 
unpurchasable  by  money.  They  did  not,  therefore,  know 
of  their  own  spiritual  pauperism;  their  abject  poverty. 


[18] 


n 


THE  betrothal  and  impending  marriage  of  Daniel 
Leitzel  was  the  only  topic  of  discussion  that  eve- 
ning at  the  New  Munich  Country  Club  dance. 
Certainly  New  Munich  had  a  Country  Club.  "Up  to 
date  in  every  particular."  There  was  nothing  in  the  way 
of  being  smartly  fashionable  that  the  town  of  New  Munich 
lacked.  Well,  if  up  to  the  present  it  had  lacked  old  fami- 
lies of  "distinguished  lineage,"  who,  in  these  commercial 
days,  regarded  that  kind  of  thing?  Anyway,  was  not 
that  lack  (if  lack  it  had  been)  now  to  be  supplied  by  the 
newcomer,  Mrs.  Daniel  Leitzel? 

Not  only  at  the  Country  Club  dance,  but  wherever  two 
or  three  were  gathered  together — at  the  mid-week  Prayer 
Meeting,  at  the  Woman's  Suffrage  Headquarters,  at  the 
Ladies'  Literary  Club,  at  the  Episcopal  Church  Vespers, 
at  the  auction  bridge  given  at  Congressman  Ocksreider's 
home — Danny  LeitzeFs  betrothal  was  talked  about. 

"Just  imagine  this  'daughter  of  a  thousand  earls '  ' 

"Governors,  not  earls,"  corrected  Mr.  Schaeffer,  the 
whist  partner  of  the  first  speaker  who  was  Miss  Myrtle 
Deibert,  as  supper  was  being  served  at  eleven  o'clock  on 
the  card  tables  at  Congressman  Ocksreider's.  "A  thou- 
sand governors  and  highbrows — shy-lologists,  or  some- 
thing like  that — whatever  they  are!" 

[19] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"Well,  just  imagine  such  a  person  living  at  the  Leit- 
zels!" 

"But  you  don't  suppose  Danny's  sisters  will  still  live 
with  him  after  he's  married!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Bleichert,  the 
second  young  man  at  the  table. 

"If  he  thinks  it  more  economical,  they  certainly  will," 
declared  Miss  Myrtle  Deibert. 

"Whew!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Bleichert.     "Good-night!" 

"Who  would  have  supposed  any  nice  girl  would  have 
married  old  Danny  Leitzel!"  marvelled  Mr.  Schaeffer. 

"Oh,  come  now,"  protested  Mr.  Bleichert  who  was  a 
cynic,  "why  have  all  the  girls,  from  the  buds  just  out,  up 
to  the  bargain -counter  maidens  in  their  fourth  'season,' 
been  inviting  Danny  Leitzel  to  everything  going,  and  run- 
ning after  him  heels  over  head,  ever  since  he  built  his  ugly, 
expensive  brick  house  on  Main  Street?  Tell  me  that, 
will  you?" 

It  should  be  stated  here  that  it  was  an  accepted  social 
custom  in  New  Munich  for  the  people  at  one  card  table  to 
discuss  the  clothes,  manners,  and  morals  of  those  at  the 
next  table. 

"You  know  perfectly  well,"  retorted  Miss  Deibert, 
"that  at  least  two  girls  in  this  town,  when  it  came  to  the 
point  of  marrying  Danny,  chucked  it." 

"I  should  think  they  might,"  said  Schaeffer.  "Why, 
he  isn't  a  man,  he's  a  weasel,  a  rat,  a  money-slot!" 

"Well,  of  course,  the  girl  or  old  maid,  'bird  or  devil,' 
that  has  caught  him  at  last,  isn't  marrying  him  for  himself, 
but  for  his  money,"  serenely  affirmed  Myrtle  Deibert. 

"When  she  meets  his  two  appendages,  Miss  Jennie  and 
[201 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

Miss  Sadie,  she'll  wish  she  was  single  again!"  predicted 
Mr.  Bleichert. 

"They'll  probably  think  it  their  business  to  manage 
Danny's  wife  the  way  they  manage  him,"  Miss  Deibert 
declared. 

"I  hope  she's  a  spendthrift,"  shrugged  Mr.  Schaeffer. 
"  It  would  give  Dan  Leitzel  the  shock  he  needs  to  find  him- 
self married  to  a  spendthrift." 

"She  won't  be  one  after  she's  Mrs.  Daniel  Leitzel!" 
Miss  Deibert  confidently  asserted. 

"But  of  course  she's  rich — Dan  Leitzel  wouldn't  marry  a 
dowerless  woman,"  said  Bleichert. 

"Well,  then  he  won't  let  her  spend  her  money,"  Miss 
Deibert  settled  that. 

The  second  young  lady  at  this  card  table,  a  pale,  serious- 
looking  girl,  did  not  join  in  the  discussion,  but  sat  with 
her  eyes  downcast,  toying  with  her  food,  as  the  rest  chat- 
tered. The  other  three  did  not  give  Miss  Aucker  credit 
for  remaining  silent  because  she  found  their  gossip  vulgar 
and  tiresome  (which  was  indeed  her  true  reason)  but  at- 
tributed her  disinclination  to  talk  to  the  fact  that  during 
the  past  year  Daniel  Leitzel  had  been  rather  noticeably 
attentive  to  her;  so  much  so  that  people  had  begun  to  look 
for  a  possible  interesting  outcome.  Miss  Deibert,  Mr. 
Schaeffer,  and  Mr.  Bleichert,  therefore,  all  considered  her 
demeanour  just  now  to  be  an  indelicately  open  expression 
of  her  chagrin  at  the  news  they  discussed. 

"He  was  her  last  chance,"  Miss  Deibert  was  thinking. 
"She  must  be  nearly  thirty." 

"One  would  think  she  wouldn't  show  her  disappoint- 
[211 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

ment  so  frankly,"  Mr.  Schaeffer  was  mentally  criticising 
her. 

"You  know,"  chuckled  Miss  Deibert  as  she  dabbed  with 
her  fork  at  a  chicken  croquet,  "Danny,  away  from  his 
sisters  and  his  awful  house  and  among  strangers,  would 
appear  so  like  a  perfect  gentleman,  even  if  he  is  'a  rat,  a 
weasel,  a  money-slot,'  that  I  think  even  the  descendant  of 
earls  or  governors  might  be  deceived.  You  see  he's  had  so 
many  advantages;  he  was  only  ten  years  old  when  they 
discovered  coal  on  their  land  and  got  rich  over  night. 
And  from  the  first,  his  sisters  gave  him  every  advantage 
they  could  buy  for  him,  sending  him  to  the  best  private 
schools,  and  then  to  college,  and  then  to  the  Harvard  Law 
School;  and  every  one  knows  that  Danny  Leitzel  is  no  fool, 
but  a  brilliant  lawyer.  So  I  do  think  that,  detached  from 
his  setting  here,  there's  nothing  about  Danny  that  would 
lead  an  unsuspecting  South  Carolina  bride  to  imagine  such 
contingencies  as  Jennie  and  Sadie  and  that  Main  Street 
house.  I  suppose  she  lives  in  an  ancestral  colonial  place 
full  of  antique  mahogany,  the  kind  we  all  buy  at  junk 
shops  when  we  have  money  enough." 

"What  kind  of  a  woman  would  it  be  that  could  stand 
Dan  Leitzel's  penuriousness?"  Mr.  Schaeffer  speculated. 
"He  makes  money  like  rolling  down  hill  and  I've  heard 
him  jew  down  the  old  chore  woman  that  scrubs  his  office 
and  haggle  over  a  fifty -cent  bill  for  supper  at  the  club. 
He's  the  worst  screw  I  ever  knew.  And  mind  you,  his 
bride's  a  Southern  woman,  accustomed  to  liberality  and 
gallantry  and  everything  she  won't  find  at  Danny's 
house!" 

[22] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

'Do  you  know  (not  many  people  in  New  Munich  do 
seem  to  know)  that  the  Leitzels'  mother  is  living?"  said 
Miss  Deibert. 

"What?" 

"I  know  a  woman  that  knows  her.  She  lives  in  the 
Leitzels'  old  farmhouse  out  in  Martz  Township." 

"But  Miss  Jennie  and  Miss  Sadie  are  too  old  to  have  a 
mother  living." 

"  It's  their  step-mother.  But  she  brought  them  up  from 
little  children  and  I  heard  she  even  took  hi  washing  to 
support  them  when  their  own  father  drank — and  now 
they're  ashamed  of  her  and  don't  have  anything  to  do  with 
her.  I  was  told  she's  a  dear  old  soul  and  never  speaks 
against  them,  but  is  as  proud  of  their  rise  in  the  world  as  if 
she  were  their  own  mother.  The  neighbours  out  there 
say  she  has  a  hard  time  getting  on  and  that  they  don't  do  a 
thing  for  her  except  let  her  live  in  their  old  tumble-down 
farmhouse.  Isn't  it  a  shame,  as  rich  as  they  are!" 

"You  can't  believe  everything  you  hear." 

"But  it  would  be  just  like  them!"  affirmed  Bleichert. 

"Mary!"  Miss  Deibert  suddenly  laid  her  hand  play- 
fully on  that  of  the  silent  Miss  Aucker.  "Congratula- 
tions on  your  escape,  my  dear!" 

"I  was  never  in  the  least  danger,  Myrtle.  Aren't  we 
gossiping  rather  dreadfully?  I've  been  wondering" — she 
looked  up  with  a  smile  that  transformed  her  seriousness 
into  a  gentle  radiance — "what  a  newcomer  like  Mr. 
Leitzel's  wife,  doomed  to  live  here,  will  do  with  us  and  our 
social  life,  if  she  really  is  a  woman  of  breeding  and  culture. 
I  wonder  whether  it  would  be  possible  this  winter  to  make 

[23] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

our  social  coming  together  count  for  something  more  than 
— well,  than  just  an  utter  waste  of  time.  What  is  there  in 
it  all — our  afternoon  teas,  auction  bridge,  luncheons, 
dinners,  dances.  The  dances  are  of  course  the  best  thing 
we  do  because  they  are  at  least  refreshing  and  rejuvenat- 
ing. But  don't  you  think,  Myrtle,  that  we  might  make  it 
all  more  worth  while?" 

"There's  the  Ladies'  Literary  Club,"  Myrtle  suggested, 
"for  those  that  want  something  'worth  while,'  as  you  put 
it.  I  think  it's  an  awful  bore  myself." 

"Of  course  it  is,"  Mary  agreed. 

"But  what  would  you  suggest  then?" 

"I  suppose  it  is  after  all  a  question  of  what  is  in  our- 
selves. A  dozen  literary  clubs  at  which  we  read  abstracts 
from  encyclopedias  wouldn't  alter  the  fact  that  when  we 
get  together  we  have  so  little,  so  little  to  give  to  each 
other!" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know!"  protested  Myrtle.  "We  all  read 
all  the  latest  books  and  magazines  and  talk  about  them, 
and " 

At  an  adjoining  table  another  phase  of  the  agitating 
news  was  being  threshed  out. 

"If  she's  what  the  papers  say  she  is,  I  suppose  she'll 
turn  up  her  nose  at  New  Munich,"  said  the  daughter  of 
the  Episcopal  rector. 

"Oh,  I  don't  think  she  need  put  on  any  airs!"  said  Miss 
Ocksreider,  the  hostess's  daughter.  "I've  visited  down 
South  and  I  can  tell  you  we're  enough  more  up  to  date 
here  in  New  Munich.  Nearly  every  one  down  there,  even 
their  aristocrats,  is  so  poor  that  up  here  they  wouldn't  be 

[24] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

anybody.  It's  awfully  queer  the  way  those  Southerners 
don't  care  anything  about  appearances.  They  tell  you 
right  out  they  can't  afford  this  and  that,  and  they  don't 
seem  to  think  anything  of  wearing  clothes  all  out  of  style. 
There  was  an  awfully  handsome  new  house  in  the  town 
where  I  stopped,  and  when  I  asked  the  hotel  clerk  who  lived 
in  it  and  if  they  weren't  great  swells,  he  said:  'Oh,  no,  they 
are  not  in  society;  they're  not  one  of  OUT  families,  though 
they're  very  nice  people,  of  course,  members  of  church  and 
good  to  the  poor  and  all  like  that.'  'Not  in  society  in  a 
little  town  like  this  Leesburg,  and  living  in  a  mansion  like 
that?'  I  said.  Yes,  that's  the  way  they  are  down  there." 

"How  queer!"  came  from  two  of  her  table  companions 
to  whom,  like  herself,  any  but  money  standards  of  value 
were  rather  vague  and  hazy. 

"But  if  they  don't  care  for  money  down  there,  then 
what's  this  girl  marrying  Dan  Leitzel  for?"  one  of  the  men 
candidly  wondered. 

"Well,  you  know  there's  no  accounting  for  tastes." 

"I  could  excuse  any  woman's  marrying  for  money — in 
these  days  it's  only  prudent,"  said  the  candid  one;  "but  I 
certainly  couldn't  respect  a  woman  that  married  Dan 
Leitzel  for  anything  else." 

"It's  to  be  hoped  she's  an  up-to-date  girl  and  not  a 
clinging  vine,  for  Danny  will  need  very  firm  handling  to 
make  him  part  with  enough  money  to  keep  her  in  gloves 
and  slippers  and  other  necessary  luxuries,"  said  Miss 
Ocksreider. 

"Yes,  if  it  were  only  her  husband  that  she'll  have  to 
manage;  but  there  are  Miss  Jennie  and  Miss  Sadie,  too!" 

[25] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

cried  the  rector's  daughter.  "Danny  doesn't  so  much  as 
put  on  a  necktie  without  consulting  them.  They  even 
tie  it  for  him  and  part  his  hair  for  him." 

"That  may  be,"  said  one  of  the  men,  "but  let  me  tell 
you  that  any  one  who  thinks  Dan  Leitzel  hasn't  any  force 
of  character  better  take  another  guess.  If  he  lets  his  sis- 
ters choose  his  neckties  for  him,  it's  because  he  doesn't 
want  to  do  it  himself.  He's  the  most  consummately  self- 
ish individual  I've  ever  known  in  the  whole  course  of  my 
long  and  useful  life  and  the  most  immovably  obstinate. 
Weak?  Why,  when  that  fellow  takes  a  notion,  he's  a  mule 
for  sticking  to  it.  Reason  with  him?  Go  out  in  your 
chicken  yard  and  reason  with  your  hens.  It  wouldn't  be 
as  futile!" 

"He  may  be  independent  of  his  sisters,  but  his  wife 
won't  be!"  prophesied  the  rector's  daughter  darkly. 

"Anyway,"  said  Miss  Ocksreider,  "it  will  be  interesting, 
won't  it,  to  look  on  this  winter  at  the  drama  or  comedy  or 
tragedy,  as  the  case  may  be,  of  Danny  Leitzel's  marriage?  " 

"Won't  it!"  exclaimed  in  chorus  her  hearers. 

But  at  one  of  the  other  tables  a  man  was  at  this  moment 
remarking:  "You  may  all  laugh  at  Dan  Leitzel — he's 
funny  of  course — but  he's  all  the  same  a  man  of  brains  and 
education,  of  wealth  and  influence  and  power.  In  short, 
he's  a  successful  man.  And  in  Pennsylvania  who  asks 
anything  more  of  a  man?" 


[26] 


m 


MEANTIME,  several  hundred  miles  away,  the  two 
objects  of  all  this  criticism  and  speculation  were 
not  so  apprehensive  for  their  future  as  were  the 
gossips  of  New  Munich,  though  it  must  be  confessed  that 
the  prospective  bridegroom,  in  spite  of  his  jubilant  happi- 
ness, did  have  one  or  two  misgivings  on  certain  points, 
and  that  the  bride,  while  wholly  ignorant  of  the  real  calibre 
of  the  man  she  was  about  to  marry,  and  having  no  concep- 
tion of  such  a  domestic  and  social  environment  as  that 
from  which  he  had  sprung,  nevertheless  did  not  even  im- 
agine herself  romantically  in  love  with  him. 

That  a  girl  like  Margaret  Berkeley  could  have  become 
involved  in  a  love  affair  and  an  actual  betrothal  with  a 
man  like  Daniel  Leitzel,  while  apparently  inexplicable, 
becomes,  in  view  of  her  unique  history  and  present  circum- 
stances, not  only  plausible,  but  almost  inevitable. 

Her  entanglement  with  him  may  be  dated  from  a  certain 
evening  just  twenty -four  hours  before  she  met  or  even  heard 
of  him,  when  a  little  episode,  trivial  enough  in  itself,  opened 
her  eyes  to  an  ugly  fact  in  her  relation  with  her  sister  to 
which  she  had  been  rather  persistently  blind. 

She  had  been  radiantly  happy  all  that  day  because  of 
the  unusual  circumstance  that  she  had  something  delight- 
ful to  anticipate  for  the  evening.  Her  godmother,  who 

[27] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

lived  in  Charleston,  had  'phoned  out  to  Berkeley  Hill  to 
invite  her  to  go  with  her  to  see  Nazimova  in  "Hedda  Ga- 
bler";  and  as  Margaret  had  seen  only  three  plays  in  all  the 
twenty-five  years  of  her  life  (though  she  had  avidly  read 
every  classic  drama  in  the  English  and  French  languages) 
she  was  greatly  excited  at  the  prospect  before  her.  So 
barren  had  her  girlhood  been  of  youthful  pleasures,  so 
sombre  and  uneventful  her  daily  routine,  and  so  repressed 
every  natural,  restless  instinct  toward  brightness  and  hap- 
piness, that  the  idea  of  seeing  a  great  dramatic  perform- 
ance loomed  big  before  her  as  an  intoxicating  delight.  All 
day,  alone  in  her  isolated  suburban  home,  in  charge  of  her 
elder  sister's  three  small  children  and  of  the  two  rather 
decrepit  negro  servants  of  the  great  old  place,  she  had  gone 
tripping  and  singing  about  the  house.  She  had  been  quite 
unable  to  settle  down  to  the  prosaic  work  of  mending  the 
week's  laundry,  or  of  wrestling  with  the  intricacies  of  Henry 
James'  difficult  style  in  "The  Golden  Bowl"  in  which, 
the  night  before,  she  had  been  passionately  absorbed. 

She  could  scarcely  wait  for  her  sister  Harriet  to  come 
home  from  town,  where  she  was  attending  a  young  ma- 
trons' luncheon  party,  so  eager  was  she  to  tell  her  of  the 
treat  she  was  going  to  have. 

"She  will  be  so  glad  for  me.  I've  scarcely  been  out- 
side the  hedge  for  a  month,  and  she  has  been  having 
such  a  gay  time  herself — she's  so  popular.  She'll  be  so 
glad  I'm  going!"  she  repeated  to  herself,  trying  to  ignore 
the  doubt  in  her  heart  on  that  point. 

But  when  at  half-past  four  in  the  afternoon  Harriet  re- 
turned, the  blow  fell  upon  Margaret. 

[28] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"Harriet,  dear!"  she  exultantly  greeted  her  sister  with 
her  splendid  news  the  moment  the  latter  came  into  the 
house,  "Aunt  Virginia  is  going  to  take  me  to  see  Nazimova 
to-night !  Oh ! "  She  laughed  aloud,  and  danced  about  the 
spacious  hall  in  her  delight,  while  her  sister,  a  very  comely 
young  matron  of  thirty-five,  leisurely  removed  her  wraps. 

"But  Walter  and  I  are  going,"  Harriet  casually  re- 
marked as  she  tossed  her  cloak  over  a  carved,  high-backed 
chair.  "  The  editor  of  the  Bulletin  gave  Walter  two  tickets 
as  part  payment  for  some  legal  business  Walter  did  for 
him.  Of  course  you  and  I  can't  both  be  away  from  the 
children.  Has  the  baby  had  her  five  o'clock  bottle?" 

"It  isn't  quite  five  yet." 

"Will  you  see  that  she  gets  it,  dearie?  I'm  so  dead 
tired,  I'll  have  to  rest  before  dinner  if  I'm  going  into  the 
city  again  to-night.  Will  you  attend  to  it?" 

"Yes." 

"That's  a  dear.  I'm  going  up  to  lie  down.  Don't 
let  the  children  come  to  my  room  and  wake  me,  will  you, 
dear?"  she  added  as  she  started  languidly  upstairs. 

"But,  Harriet!" 

"What?"  Harriet  asked,  not  stopping. 

"I  accepted  Aunt  Virginia's  invitation  and  she  is  com- 
ing out  in  her  motor  for  me!" 

"Too  bad!  I'm  awfully  sorry.  You'd  better  'phone 
at  once  or  she  will  be  offended.  Tell  her  that  as  we  are 
much  too  poor  to  buy  tickets  for  the  theatre,  we  can't  pos- 
sibly refuse  to  use  them  on  the  rare  occasions  when  they're 
given  to  us!"  Harriet  laughed  as  she  disappeared  around 
the  curve  of  the  winding  stairway. 

[29] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

Margaret  sprang  after  her.  "Oh,  Harriet!  I  can't 
give  it  up!"  Her  voice  was  low  and  breathless. 

"But  if  you  'phone  at  once  Aunt  Virginia  won't  be  cross. 
You  know,  dearie,  you  shouldn't  make  engagements  with- 
out first  finding  out  what  ours  are."  And  Harriet  moved 
on  up  the  stairs  to  her  bedroom. 

Margaret  was  ashamed  of  her  childishness  when  at 
dinner  that  evening  Walter,  her  brother-in-law,  inquiring, 
in  his  kind,  solicitous  way,  the  cause  of  her  pallor  and 
silence,  she  burst  out  crying  and  rushed  from  the  table. 

Walter,  looking  shocked  and  distressed,  turned  to  his 
wife  for  an  explanation.  But  Harriet's  face  expressed 
blank  astonishment. 

"Why,  I  can't  imagine!  Unless  she's  tired  out  from 
having  had  the  children  all  day.  I  was  at  Mrs.  Duncan's 
luncheon,  you  know.  I  didn't  get  home  until  nearly  five. 
I'll  tell  Margaret  to  go  to  bed  early  to-night  and  rest  up." 

Walter  Eastman,  searching  his  wife's  face  keenly, 
shrugged  his  big  shoulders  at  the  impenetrability  of  its  in- 
nocent candour.  No  use  to  try  to  get  at  the  truth  of  any- 
thing from  Harriet.  She  wasn't  exactly  a  liar,  but  she  had 
a  genius  for  twisting  facts  to  suit  her  own  selfish  ends — 
and  all  Harriet's  ends  were  selfish.  Even  the  welfare  of 
her  children  was  secondary  to  her  own  comfort  and  con- 
venience. Walter  had  no  illusions  about  the  wife  of  his 
bosom  and  the  mother  of  his  three  children.  He  knew 
perfectly  well  that  she  loved  no  one  as  she  loved  herself, 
and  that  this  dominating  self-love  made  her  often  cold- 
blooded and  even  sometimes  a  bit  false,  though  always, 
he  was  sure,  unconsciously  so.  He  was  still  quite  fond  of 

[30] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

her,  which  spoke  well  for  them  both,  considering  that  they 
had  been  married  nine  years.  Of  course,  after  such  a  length 
of  time  they  were  no  longer  "in  love."  But  Harriet  was 
an  easy-going,  good-natured  woman,  when  you  didn't 
cross  her;  and  as  he  was  also  easy-going  and  good-natured, 
and  never  crossed  her  when  he  could  avoid  it,  they  got  on 
beautifully  and  had  a  pretty  good  time  together. 

Walter  wondered  sometimes  what  Harriet  would  do  if 
placed  in  circumstances  where  her  own  inclinations  would 
have  to  be  sacrificed  for  those  of  another.  For  instance, 
if  she  and  Margaret  had  to  change  places. 

"Take  Margaret  to  the  play  with  you  to-night  and  I'll 
stay  home  with  the  kiddies,  Harriet,"  he  suggested,  look- 
ing at  his  wife  across  their  beautifully  appointed  dinner- 
table  with  its  old  family  china  and  silver.  Harriet,  in  her 
home-made  evening  gown,  graced  with  distinction  the 
stately  dining-room  furnished  in  shining  antique  mahog- 
any, its  walls  hung  with  interesting  portraits.  "If  Mar- 
garet's had  charge  of  the  children  all  day,  she  ought  not 
to  have  them  to-night." 

"No."  Harriet  shook  her  head.  "Margaret  ought  not 
to  go  out  to-night,  she's  too  tired.  And  I  want  you  with 
me,  dear.  Margaret  is  not  my  husband,  you  know. 
That's  the  danger  of  having  one  of  your  family  living  with 
you,"  she  sighed.  "It  is  so  apt  to  make  a  husband  and 
wife  less  near  to  each  other.  I  am  always  resisting  the  in- 
clination, Walter,  dear,  to  pair  off  with  Margaret  instead 
of  with  you.  I  resist  it  for  your  sake,  for  the  children's 
sake,  for  the  sake  of  our  home." 

"I  shall  feel  a  selfish  beast  going  to  a  play  and  leaving 
[31]' 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

that  dear  girl  alone  here  with  the  babies.     They're  our 
babies,  not  hers,  you  know." 

"She  loves  them  like  her  own;  she's  crazy  about  them. 
They  are  the  greatest  pleasure  she  has,  Walter." 

"Because  she  hasn't  the  sort  of  young  pleasures  she 
ought  to  have.  And  because  she's  so  unselfish,  Hat,  that 
she  lets  herself  be  imposed  upon  to  the  limit!  I've  been 
thinking,  lately,  that  we  ought  to  do  more  than  we  do  for 
Margaret;  she  ought  to  know  girls  of  her  own  age;  she 
ought  to  have  a  bit  of  social  life,  now  that  the  year  of 
mourning  is  over.  It's  too  dull  for  her,  sticking  out  here 
eternally,  minding  our  children  and  seeing  after  the  house." 

"But  she's  used  to  sticking  out  here  and  seeing  after 
the  house.  When  she  lived  here  with  Uncle  Osmond  she 
had  a  lot  less  diversion  and  life  about  her  than  she  has 
now,  and  you  know  how  deadly  gloomy  it  was  here  then. 
We've  brightened  it  up  and  made  it  a  home  for  Margaret." 

"The  fact  that  she  had  to  sacrifice  her  girlhood  for  your 
uncle  is  all  the  more  reason  why  she  shouldn't  sacrifice 
what's  left  of  it  for  our  children." 

"If  Margaret  doesn't  complain,  I  don't  see  why  you 
need,  dear." 

"She'd  never  complain — she  never  thinks  of  herself. 
Your  Uncle  Osmond  took  care  not  to  let  her  form  the 
habit!  For  that  very  reason  we  should  think  for  her  a 
bit,  Hattie,  dear.  I  say,  we've  got  to  let  Margaret  in  for 
some  young  society." 

"When  I  can't  afford  to  keep  up  my  social  end,  let  alone 
hers?  And  if  we  should  spend  money  that  way  for  Mar- 
garet, where  would  the  children  come  in?" 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"Oh,  pshaw!"  said  Walter  impatiently.  "You're  bluff- 
ing! You  care  no  more  about  the  money  side  of  it  than 
I  do.  You're  not  a  Yankee  tight- wad!  Margaret  need 
not  live  the  life  of  a  nursemaid  because  we're  not  rich,  any 
more  than  you  do,  honey.  It's  absurd!  And  it's  all 
wrong.  What  you're  really  afraid  of,  Hat,  is  that  if  she 
went  about  more,  you'd  have  to  stay  at  home  now  and 
then  with  your  own  babies.  Eh,  dear?" 

But  he  was  warned  by  the  look  in  his  wife's  face  that  he 
must  go  no  further.  He  was  aware  of  the  fact  that  Har- 
riet was  distinctly  jealous  of  his  too  manifest  liking  for 
Margaret.  Being  something  of  a  philosopher,  he  had  felt 
occasionally,  when  his  sister-in-law  had  seemed  to  him 
more  than  usually  charming  and  irresistible,  that  a  wife's 
instinctive  jealousy  was  really  a  Providential  safeguard  to 
hold  a  man  in  check. 

He  wondered  often  why  he  found  Margaret  so  tremen- 
dously appealing,  when  undoubtedly  his  wife,  though  ten 
years  older  than  her  sister,  was  much  the  better  looking 
of  the  two.  He  was  not  subtle  enough  to  divine  that  it 
was  the  absolutely  feminine  quality  of  Margaret's  person- 
ality, the  penetrating,  all-pervasive  womanliness  which 
one  felt  in  her  presence,  which  expressed  itself  in  her  every 
movement,  in  every  curve  of  her  young  body — it  was  this 
which  so  poignantly  appealed  to  his  strong  virility  that  at 
times  he  felt  he  could  not  bear  her  presence  in  the  house. 

He  would  turn  from  her  and  look  upon  his  wife's  much 
prettier  face  and  finer  figure,  only  to  have  the  fire  of  his 
blood  turn  lukewarm.  For  he  recognized,  with  fatal 
clearness,  that  though  Harriet  had  the  beautiful,  clear- 

[33] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

cut  features  and  look  of  high  breeding  characteristic  of 
the  Berkeley  race,  her  inexpressive  countenance  betrayed 
a  commonplace  mind  and  soul,  while  Margaret,  lacking 
the  Berkeley  beauty,  did  have  the  family  look  and  air  of 
breeding,  which  gave  her,  with  her  countenance  of  intelli- 
gence and  sensitiveness,  a  marked  distinction;  and  Walter 
Eastman  was  a  man  not  only  of  temperament,  but  of  the 
poetic  imagination  that  idealizes  the  woman  with  whom  he 
is  at  the  time  in  love. 

"The  man  that  marries  Margaret  will  never  fall  out  of 
love  with  her — she's  magnetic  to  her  finger-tips!  What's 
more,  there's  something  in  her  worth  loving — worth  loving 
forever ! " 

At  this  stage  of  his  reflections  he  usually  pulled  himself 
up  short,  uncomfortably  conscious  of  his  disloyalty.  Har- 
riet, he  knew,  was  wholly  loyal  to  him,  proud  of  him, 
thinking  him  all  that  any  woman  could  reasonably  expect 
a  husband  to  be — a  gentleman  of  old  family,  well  set  up 
physically,  and  indeed  good-looking,  chivalrous  to  his 
wife,  devoted  to  his  children,  temperate  in  his  habits,  up- 
right and  honourable.  She  did  not  even  criticise  his 
natural  indolence,  which,  rather  than  lack  of  brains  or 
opportunity,  kept  his  law  practice  and  his  earnings  too 
small  for  the  needs  of  his  growing  family;  but  Harriet 
preferred  to  do  without  money  rather  than  have  her  hus- 
band be  a  vulgar  "hustler,"  like  a  "Yankee  upstart." 

It  was  this  same  indolence  of  Walter's,  rather  than  want 
of  force  of  character,  which  led  him  to  stand  by  passively 
and  see  his  sister-in-law  constantly  imposed  upon,  as  he 
distinctly  felt  that  she  was,  though  he  realized  that  Mar- 

[34] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

garet  herself,  dear,  sweet  girl,  never  seemed  conscious 
of  it.  Her  unexpected  outburst  at  dinner  to-night  had 
shocked  and  hurt  him  to  the  quick.  He  was  sure  that 
something  really  outrageous  on  Harriet's  part  must  have 
caused  it.  Yet  rather  than  "raise  a  row"  with  Harriet, 
he  acquiesced  in  her  decision  to  leave  Margaret  at  home. 
It  must  be  said  in  justice  to  him  that  had  his  astute  wife 
not  kept  him  in  ignorance  of  their  Aunt  Virginia's  invita- 
tion to  Margaret  he  would  undoubtedly  have  taken  a  stand 
in  the  matter.  Harriet,  carefully  calculating  the  limit  of 
his  easy  forbearance,  knew  better  than  to  tell  him  of  that 
invitation;  and  she  could  safely  count  upon  Margaret  not 
to  put  her  in  the  wrong  with  Walter. 

Margaret,  meantime,  locked  in  her  room,  had  quickly 
got  over  her  outbreak  of  weeping  and  was  now  sitting  up- 
right upon  her  bed,  resolutely  facing  her  quandary. 

It  was  Harriet's  assumption  of  authority,  with  its  im- 
plication of  her  own  subservient  position,  that  was  open- 
ing Margaret's  eyes  this  evening  to  the  real  nature  of  her 
position  in  her  sister's  household. 

"Suppose  I  went  straight  to  her  just  now,  all  dressed 
for  the  theatre,  and  told  her  in  an  off-hand,  careless,  artis- 
tic manner  that  I  couldn't  possibly  break  my  engagement 
with  Aunt  Virginia!" 

Margaret,  perched  Turk-fashion  on  the  foot  of  her  bed, 
her  hands  clasped  about  one  knee,  her  cheeks  flushed,  her 
eyes  very  bright,  contemplated  in  fancy  Harriet's  con- 
sternation at  such  an  unwonted  procedure  on  her  part — 
and  she  knew  she  would  not  do  it.  Not  because,  like 
Walter,  she  was  too  indolent  to  wrestle  with  Harriet's 

[351 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

cold-blooded  tenacity;  nor  because  she  was  in  the  least 
afraid  of  her  sister.  After  living  eight  years  with  Uncle 
Osmond  she  would  hardly  quail  before  Harriet!  But  it 
was  that  thing  Harriet  had  said  to  her  this  afternoon — 
that  awful  thing  that  burned  in  her  brain  and  heart — it 
was  that  with  which  she  must  reckon  before  she  could  take 
any  definite  stand.  "You  should  not  make  any  engage- 
ments without  first  finding  out  what  ours  are,"  Harriet 
had  said,  which,  in  view  of  all  the  circumstances,  simply 
meant,  "Being  dependent  upon  us  for  your  food  and 
clothes,  your  time  should  be  at  our  disposal.  You  are  no 
more  free  to  go  and  come  than  are  the  cook  and  butler." 

Now  of  course  Harriet  would  never  admit  for  an  instant 
that  she  felt  like  that.  Margaret  knew  perfectly  well  that 
her  sister  did  not  begrudge  the  little  it  cost  to  keep  her 
with  them.  Harriet  was  not  so  thrifty  as  that.  This  at- 
titude, then,  was  probably  only  a  pretext  to  cover  some- 
thing else  which  Harriet  was  no  doubt  unwilling  to  admit 
even  to  her  own  soul,  that  something  else  which  Margaret, 
herself,  had  tried  so  long  not  to  see,  which  made  her  pres- 
ence at  Berkeley  Hill  unwelcome  to  both  Walter  and  Har- 
riet. And  Harriet,  too  proud  to  acknowledge  her  true 
reason  for  wishing  her  sister  away,  pretended  to  an  eco- 
nomic one. 

"Suppose  I  said  to  her,  'You  must  not  make  engage- 
ments without  first  finding  out  what  mine  are?'  Now  if 
she  had  only  said,  '  We  should  not  make  engagements  with- 
out first  consulting  with  each  other.'  But  she  put  all  the 
obligation  where  she  tries  to  persuade  herself  that  it  be- 
longs." 

[36] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

When  presently  Margaret  heard  her  sister  and  Walter 
leave  the  house  to  go  to  the  theatre  she  got  up  from  her 
bed  and  went  to  Harriet's  room  adjoining  the  nursery,  to 
keep  guard  over  the  three  sleeping  children  until  their 
parents  came  home. 

Lying  on  a  chintz-covered  couch  at  the  foot  of  Harriet's 
huge  four-posted  bed,  she  thought  long  and  earnestly  upon 
every  phase  of  her  difficult  situation,  determined  that  be- 
fore she  slept  she  would  solve  the  apparently  impossible 
problem  of  how  she  might  leave  Berkeley  Hill. 


[37] 


IV 


NINE  years  ago  it  was  that  Margaret,  a  girl  of  six- 
teen, had  come  out  from  Charleston  to  live  at 
Berkeley  Hill  as  nurse,  amanuensis,  housekeeper, 
and  companion  to  her  sickly,  irritable,  and  eccentric  old 
Uncle  Osmond  Berkeley,  eminent  psychologist,  scholar, 
and  author,  who  at  that  time  owned  and  occupied  the 
Berkeley  homestead.  It  was  the  death  of  her  father  and 
Harriet's  immediate  marriage  that,  leaving  her  homeless 
and  penniless,  had  precipitated  upon  her  those  years  of 
imprisonment  with  an  irascible  invalid.  Indeed  so  com- 
pletely stranded  had  she  been  that  she  had  accepted  only 
too  thankfully  her  uncle's  grudging  offer  to  give  her  a  home 
with  him  on  condition  that  she  give  him  in  return  every 
hour  of  her  time,  making  herself  useful  in  every  variety  of 
occupation  he  saw  fit  to  impose,  and  to  do  it  all  with  entire 
cheerfulness  and  absolutely  no  complaining.  That  was 
the  chief  of  his  many  "  unqualified  conditions  " — a  cheerful 
countenance  at  all  times,  no  matter  what  her  fancied 
reason  for  dissatisfaction,  and  no  matter  how  gloomy  he 
might  be. 

"I'm  never  cheerful,"  he  had  affirmed,  "and  that's  why 
I  require  you  always  to  be  so.  If  that  seems  to  you  un- 
reasonable and  illogical,  you're  stupid.  Give  the  matter 
a  little  thought  and  light  may  come  to  you.  You'll  have 

[38] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

plenty  of  chance,  living  with  me,  to  develop  what  little 
thinking  powers  you  may  have — much  more  chance  than 
you'd  ever  have  in  a  school  for  young  ladies,  where  you  no 
doubt  think  I  ought  to  send  you  for  the  next  two  or  three 
years.  Schools  for  young  ladies!  Ha!"  he  laughed  sar- 
donically. "Ye  gods!  Thank  me  for  rescuing  you  from 
the  fate  of  being  'finished'  at  one  of  them!  Well  named 
'finishing  schools!'  They  certainly  are  a  girl's  finish  so 
far  as  common  sense,  capacity  for  usefulness,  and  ability 
to  think  for  herself  are  concerned!  And  there  actually 
are  parents  of  daughters  who  seriously  regard  such  schools 
as  institutions  of  'education!'  Yes,  education,  by  God! 
You'll  get  more  education,  my  girl,  from  one  week  of  my 
conversation  than  you  would  from  a  decade  of  one  of  those 
parasite  factories!" 

It  was  in  the  library  at  Berkeley  Hill,  the  stately  old 
country  home  which  for  seven  generations  had  belonged 
to  the  Berkeley  family,  that  this  preliminary  interview  had 
taken  place,  her  uncle  in  his  reclining  chair  before  a  great 
open  hearth,  the  firelight  playing  upon  his  pallid,  intel- 
lectual face  crowned  with  thick,  white  hair,  and  upon  the 
emaciated  hands  clasping  a  volume  on  his  knee.  Repel- 
lently  harsh  he  seemed  to  the  shrinking  maiden  standing 
before  him  in  her  deep  mourning,  to  be  inspected,  ap- 
praised, and  catechised;  for  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  she 
had  been  born  and  brought  up  in  the  city  of  Charleston, 
only  two  miles  away,  her  uncle  had  never  seen  enough  of 
her  to  know  anything  about  her. 

Perceiving,  now,  how  the  girl  shrank  from  him,  his  eyes 
sparkled;  there  was  something  ghoulish  in  his  love  of  cow- 

[39] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

ing  those  who  served  him.  For  the  past  ten  years  he  had 
had  no  woman  near  him  save  hired  attendants  who  cringed 
before  his  bullying. 

"  A  human  creature  who  lets  itself  be  bullied  deserves  no 
better,"  was  his  theory,  and  he  never  spared  a  sycophant. 

"The  day  I  have  you  weeping  on  my  hands,"  he  warned 
his  niece  as  she  stood  pale  and  silent  before  him,  "or  even 
looking  as  though  you  were  trying  not  to  weep,  out  you  go !" 

The  fact  that  the  girl  was  scarcely  more  than  a  child, 
that  she  was  alone  and  penniless,  did  not  soften  him. 

"She's  old  enough  to  show  her  mettle  if  she  has  any. 
If  she  hasn't,  no  loss  if  she's  crushed  in  the  grind  of  serving 
me,  for  I'm  useful,  and  shall  be  while  I  breathe  and  think." 

"Well,  what  have  you  to  say  for  yourself,  wench?"  he 
demanded  when  she  had  heard  without  a  word  his  uncom- 
promising statements  as  to  what  he  would  require  of  her 
in  return  for  the  "home"  he  would  give  her. 

"I  accept  all  your  unqualified  conditions,  Uncle  Os- 
mond," she  answered  quietly,  no  tremor  in  her  voice;  and 
the  musical,  soft  drawl  of  her  tone  fell  with  an  oddly  sooth- 
ing and  pleasing  effect  upon  the  invalid's  rasped  nerves; 
"if  you'll  accept  my  one  condition." 

Her  uncle's  white  head  jerked  like  a  startled  animal's. 
"  What?  What?  "  he  ejaculated  after  an  instant's  stunned 
silence.  "Your  condition?  Huh!  You  making  a  con- 
dition, upon  my  word !  What  pertness  is  this?  A 'condi- 
tion' upon  which  you'll  accept  my  charity!" 

"Not  your  'charity.'  The  self-supporting  position  of 
your  cheerful,  uncomplaining,  industrious,  capable,  untir- 
ing, companionable,  intelligent  chattel,"  came  the  musical, 

[40] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

lazy  drawl  in  reply.     "My  condition  is  that  you  solemnly 
promise  never  again  to  call  me  a  'wench.' " 

"I'll  call  you  what  I  see  fit  to  call  you!  If  you're  so 
damned  squeamish,  I  won't  have  you  near  me!  I'd  be 
hurling  books  at  your  head ! " 

"I'm  not  'damned  squeamish,'  Uncle  Osmond,  indeed 
I'm  not.  I  really  rather  like  the  way  you  swear,  it's  so 
manly  and  exciting.  But  I  won't  be  called  a  'wench.'" 

"Why  not?  I  won't  have  my  liberty  of  speech  ham- 
pered!" 

"Very  well,  then,  Uncle  Osmond,  dear,  I  won't  come." 

"You  shan't  come!  I  wouldn't  have  you  in  the  house, 
Miss  Pernicketty!" 

"Good-bye,  then.  I'm  very  sorry  for  you,  Uncle  Os- 
mond. I'm  sure  the  loss  is  yours.  I  would  have  been 
very  kind  to  you." 

"Sorry  for  me!  You  think  well  of  yourself,  don't  you, 
wench?" 

"At  least  so  well  that  I'll  go  out  sewing  by  the  day,  or 
stand  in  a  store,  or  go  on  the  stage,  or  turn  evangelist 
(I've  heard  there's  money  in  that)  before  I'll  be  called  a 
wench!" 

"What  in  hell  do  you  imagine  the  word  means?" 

"I  don't  know  what  it  means,  but  I  won't  be  addressed 
as  a  wench." 

"  Get  the  dictionary.     Look  it  up." 

"  But  I  won't  be  called  a  wench  no  matter  what  it  means." 

"Won't  be  called  one!  You  dictate  to  me?  Under- 
stand, girl,  nobody  dictates  to  me!  Read  Shakespeare's 
sonnet,  Lucrece: 

[41] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

" '  Know,  gentle  wench,  it  small  avails  my  mood.* 
No  offence  in  the  word,  you  see,  my  authority  being  our 
greatest  English  poet." 

"Good-bye,  Uncle  Osmond,"  she  said,  turning  away 
and  walking  toward  the  door. 

"Come  back  and  behave  yourself!" 

She  came  back  at  once.  "All  right — and  don't  ever 
forget  your  promise." 

"I  promised  nothing.     I  never  make  promises." 

"Your  acceptance  of  my  condition  is  a  promise." 

"Acceptance  of  your  condition!"  He  choked  and 
spluttered  over  it. 

"And  it's  a  mighty  small  condition  considering  all  I'm 
going  to  do  for  you  with  cheerfulness,  amiability,  a  pleas- 
ant smile " 

"Hold  your  tongue  and  speak  when  you  are  spoken  to!" 
he  growled,  apparently  furious,  but  secretly  exulting  at  the 
child's  refreshing  fearlessness  with  him. 

It  had  been  an  instinct  of  self-preservation  that  had  led 
Margaret  to  demonstrate  to  her  uncle,  in  that  very  first 
hour  with  him,  that  the  line  would  have  to  be  drawn  some- 
where in  his  browbeating.  And  the  word  "wench"  had 
served  her  purpose.  Thereafter,  in  the  eight  years  that 
she  lived  with  him,  docile  and  patient  as  she  always  was, 
he  never  forgot,  and  she  never  had  to  remind  him,  that 
there  was  a  limit  past  which  he  could  not  safely  venture  in 
the  indulgence  of  his  tendency  to  tyrannize. 

But  her  life  was  hard;  most  girls  would  have  found  its 
monotony  and  self-sacrifice  unbearable;  its  gloomy  envir- 
onment in  the  great  empty  barn  of  a  house  too  depressing; 

[421 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

its  close  confinement  within  the  narrow  limits  of  the  un- 
kept  grounds,  overgrown  with  weeds  and  bushes,  and  dark 
with  big  trees  and  a  high  hedge  of  hemlocks,  as  bad  as  any 
jail.  There  were  sometimes  weeks  at  a  stretch  during 
which  she  saw  no  human  being  save  her  uncle  and  the  old 
negro  couple  who  had  lived  on  the  place  for  a  quarter  of  a 
century;  for  though  Harriet  and  her  husband  lived  in 
Charleston,  her  uncle  would  spare  her  so  seldom  to  visit 
them,  and  was  so  exacting  as  to  her  speedy  return  to  him 
that  she  soon  fell  into  the  way  of  confining  her  intercourse 
with  her  sister  almost  entirely  to  a  weekly  exchange  of 
letters. 

In  spite,  however,  of  her  isolation  Margaret  felt  that 
there  were  compensations  in  her  lot.  She  had  resources 
within  herself  in  her  love  of  books,  and  she  found  in  her 
uncle's  rich  intellectual  equipment,  of  which  he  freely  gave 
her  the  benefit  in  their  daily  association,  a  stimulus,  a 
variety,  and  even  an  excitement  that  meant  much  more  to 
her  than  the  usual  girl's  diversions  of  frocks,  parties,  and 
beaus  would  have  meant.  It  is  true  she  often  longed  for  a 
congenial  companion  of  her  own  age,  she  hungered  for 
affection,  she  suffered  keenly  in  her  occasional  feverish 
paroxysms  of  restlessness,  and  there  were  times  when  the 
surging  fountains  of  her  youth  threatened  to  break  down 
the  barriers  that  imprisoned  a  nature  that  was  both  large 
and  impassioned. 

"She's  temperamental  enough!"  was  her  uncle's  early 
conclusion  as,  from  day  to  day,  the  girl's  mind  and  heart 
were  unfolded  to  his  keen  observation. 

Her  rare  periods  of  passionate  discontent,  however, 
[43] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

though  leaving  her  spent  and  listless  for  a  time  after  they 
had  passed  over  her,  did  not  embitter  her.  There  was  a 
fund  of  native  sweetness  in  Margaret's  soul  that  even  her 
life  with  cynical  old  Osmond  Berkeley  could  npt  blight. 
That  philosopher  marvelled  often  at  his  inability  to  spoil 
her,  remarkably  open  as  he  found  her  young  mind  to  the 
ideas  and  theories  which  he  delighted  in  impressing  upon 
her.  It  was  indeed  amazing  how  readily  she  would 
select  from  the  intellectual  feast  daily  spread  before  her 
what  was  wholesome  and  pure  and  reject  what  was  mor- 
bid. 

"That's  right,"  he  would  approve  when  she  would 
frankly  refuse  to  accept  a  dogma  laid  down  to  her.  "Bet- 
ter think  for  yourself,  even  though  you  think  wrongly, 
than  do  as  the  other  females  of  the  species  do — believe 
whatever  they  are  told  to  believe — or,  worse,  what  it  suits 
their  personal  interests  to  believe.  Be  everlastingly  thank- 
ful to  me  that  I  encourage  you  to  think  for  yourself,  to 
face  the  facts  of  life.  George  Meredith  writes,  '  The  edu- 
cation of  girls  is  to  make  them  think  that  facts  are  their 
enemies.'  You  shall  not  escape  some  knowledge  of  facts 
if  I  can  help  it!" 

"  It's  awfully  nice  of  you  to  care  so  much  about  my  mind, 
Uncle  Osmond,"  she  gratefully  responded.  "To  really 
care  for  anything  about  me.  I  do  love  to  be  mothered 
and  coddled  and  made  much  of  L" 

"Huh!  'Mothered  and  coddled  and  made  much  of!' 
You're  at  the  wrong  shop!  And  don't  let  me  hear  you 
misuse  that  word  'nice.'" 

"I  insist  upon  being  pleased  at  your  caring  at  least 
[44] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

about  my  mind!  I'd  be  grateful  even  to  a  dog  that  was 
good  to  me." 

"I'm  not  a  dog,  and  I'm  never  so  'good'  to  any  one  that 
you  could  notice  it  particularly." 

"Don't  try  to  make  yourself  out  worse  than  you  are; 
you're  bad  enough,  honey,  in  all  conscience!" 

"Hold  your  impudence  and  bring  me  Volume  Third 
of  Kant's  'Critique.'" 

"Oh,  dear!"  Margaret  sighed  as  she  obeyed,  "is  it 
going  to  be  that  awful  dope  to-day?  I  hoped  up  to  the  last 
you'd  choose  an  exciting  novel.  Do  you  know  I  don't 
think  it's  womanly  to  understand  Kant's  'Critique."' 

"I've  no  desire  to  be  womanly.     Do  as  I  tell  you." 

In  addition  to  finding  his  niece  capable  and  patient  as  a 
nurse  and  housekeeper,  Margaret  interested  him  more  than 
any  individual  he  had  known  in  many  years.  He  secretly 
blessed  the  hour  when  she  had  come  into  his  sombre  life 
to  enliven  and,  yes,  enrich  it.  Not  for  worlds,  however, 
would  he  have  let  her  know  what  she  was  to  him. 

There  were  rare  moments  when  he  was  actually  moved 
to  an  expression  of  gratitude  and  tenderness  for  his  long- 
suffering  victim;  but  Margaret's  touchingly  eager  response 
to  such  overtures  (heart-hungry  as  she  was  in  her  loneli- 
ness) while  gratifying  him,  had  always  the  effect  of  making 
him  promptly  withdraw  into  his  hard  shell  again  and  to 
counteract,  by  his  most  trying  exactions,  his  momentary 
softness;  so  that  in  time  she  learned  to  dread  any  least  sign 
of  amiability. 

She  did  not  know  the  full  extent  of  her  uncle's  selfishness 
in  his  treatment  of  her :  how  ruthlessly  he  schemed  to  avert 

[45] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

the  danger  which  he  thought  often  threatened  him  of  los- 
ing her  to  some  one  of  the  half-dozen  middle-aged  or  elderly 
gentlemen  of  learning  who  had  the  habit  of  visiting  him  in 
his  retirement  and  who,  to  the  last  man  of  them,  whether 
married  or  single,  adored  his  niece.  It  seemed  that  no 
man  could  lay  eyes  on  her  without  promptly  loving  her 
(what  men  called  love).  Even  his  physician,  happily  mar- 
ried and  the  father  of  four  lusty  boys,  was,  Berkeley  could 
see,  quite  mad  about  her,  though  Margaret  never  discov- 
ered it;  she  only  thought  him  extremely  agreeable  and  kind 
and  liked  him  accordingly.  Indeed  the  only  fun  she  ever 
got  out  of  this  train  of  admirers  was  an  occasional  hour  of 
liberty  while  they  were  closeted  with  her  uncle;  for  he  took 
care,  as  soon  as  he  realized  how  alluring  she  was  to  most 
men,  to  have  her  out  of  the  way  when  his  acquaintances 
dropped  in,  a  deprivation  to  his  own  comfort  for  which  the 
visitor  paid  in  an  extra  dose  of  pessimism  and  irony. 

"When  that  child  falls  in  love,"  Berkeley  once  told  him- 
self, "as  of  course  so  temperamental  a  girl  is  bound  to  do 
sooner  or  later,  it  will  go  hard  with  her.  Let  her  wait,  how- 
ever, until  I'm  gone.  Time  enough  for  her  then.  I  need 
her.  Couldn't  endure  life  without  her  now  that  I'm  used 
to  her!" 

So  he  not  only  gave  her  no  opportunity  to  meet  mar- 
riageable men,  he  tried  to  unsex  her,  to  engraft  upon  her 
mind  his  own  cynicism  as  to  the  thing  named  love,  his 
conviction  of  its  gross  selfishness,  his  scorn  of  sentimental- 
ity and  of  "the  hypocrisy  that  would  idealize  an  ephemeral 
emotion  grounded  in  base,  egoistic  appetite." 

"All  'love,'  all  attraction  of  whatever  nature,  is  grounded 
[46] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

in  sex,"  he  would  affirm.  "The  universe  is  upheld  and 
constantly  recreated  by  the  ceaseless  action  of  so-called 
love.  A  purely  natural,  physical  phenomenon,  there- 
fore. There  is  not  in  life  such  a  thing  as  a  disinterested 
love." 

"A  mother's  love?"  Margaret  once  suggested  in  reply 
to  this  avowal. 

"Entirely  selfish.  She  loves  her  child  as  part  of  herself; 
all  her  pride  and  ambition  for  it  are  because  it  is  hers." 

"Well,  if  you  call  a  mother's  love  selfish,  there's  no  use 
saying  anything  more." 

"And  not  to  mince  matters,"  he  reaffirmed,  "I  want 
you  to  know  for  your  own  protection  that  a  man's  love  for 
a  woman  is  that  of  a  beast  of  prey  for  its  victim!" 

"But  I'm  so  safe  here,  I  don't  need  such  protection;  I 
never  see  a  man.  No  one  but  learned  scholars  ever  come 
here." 

"'Learned  scholars'  are  not  men,  then,  in  your  cate- 
gory?" 

"Not  the  interesting  wild  kind  that  you  warn  me 
against." 

"The  man,  woman,  or  'learned  scholar,'  who  has  not  a 
devil  as  well  as  an  angel  in  his  soul,  a  beast  as  well  as  a  god, 
is  too  limited  a  creature  to  see  life  whole  and  big  and 
round." 

"Am  7,  then,"  she  inquired  with  interest,  "a  devil  and  a 
beast  as  well  as  an  angel  and  a  goddess,  do  you  think?" 

"Mostly  devil,  you!  I  couldn't  stand  the  angel-goddess 
combination.  Even  you,  my  girl,  are  wholly  selfish;  you 
would  not  stay  with  me  for  one  day  if  it  were  not  that  I 

[47] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

give  you  a  home.     Come,  now,"  he  invited,  and  evidently 
expected  a  protest  against  this  assertion. 

"Why,  of  course  I  shouldn't.     Why  would  I?" 

He  looked  rather  blank  at  this,  though  privately  he 
never  failed  to  find  her  honesty  refreshing. 

"I  never  understood,"  she  added,  "that  it  was  a  ques- 
tion of  affection  between  you  and  me,  did  you,  my  dear?" 

"'Affection! '"  he  sneered  bitterly.  "Affection  for  our- 
selves!" 

"Of  course.  You  wouldn't  give  me  a  bright  and  happy 
home  like  this  if  you  did  not  need  me  to  wait  on  you  thirty- 
six  hours  out  of  the  twenty-four  with  a  cheerful,  Cheshire- 
cat  smile,  and  all  for  my  food,  bed,  and  two  new  frocks 
and  hats  a  year." 

"Have  you  no  appreciation,  girl,  of  the  liberal  education 
it  is  for  you  to  be  with  me,  to  be  permitted  to  read  to  me, 
to  have  such  a  library  as  mine  at  your  command?" 

"Yes,  indeed,  Uncle  Osmond." 

"Well,  then?" 

"But  I  don't  stay  here  for  the  pleasure  of  your  amiable 
society,  dear,"  she  assured  him,  patting  his  hand.  "You're 
far  too  much  like  your  old  Scotch  Thomas  Carlyle  that 
you  admire  so  much.  My  goodness,  what  a  life  Jane  must 
have  led  with  that  old  curmudgeon!" 

"Hold  your  impudent  tongue!" 

"Yes,  dear." 

"Don't  speak  to  me  again  to-day!" 

"Thanks;  I'm  so  glad  you  don't  also  require  me  to  be 
brilliantly  conversational.  I'd  really  have  to  charge  extra 
for  that,  Uncle  Osmond." 

[48] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"Get  me  my  eggnog!" 

In  spite  of  all  Osmond  Berkeley's  precautions,  however, 
Margaret  did,  of  course,  go  through  the  intense  and  fiery 
ordeal  of  "falling  in  love";  for  when  a  maiden's  budding 
soul  begins  to  unfold  to  the  beauty  of  life,  to  throb  and 
thrill  before  the  wonder  and  mystery  of  the  universe,  no 
walled  imprisonment  can  check  the  course  of  nature — she 
is  bound  to  suffer  the  bitter-sweet  experience  of  becoming 
enamoured  of  something,  it  doesn't  much  matter  what; 
a  cigar-shop  Indian  will  suffice  if  nothing  more  lively  comes 
her  way.  For  circumstances  are,  after  all,  nothing  but 
"machinery,  just  meant  to  give  thy  life  its  bent."  Berke- 
ley, priding  himself  on  his  knowledge  of  sex-psychology, 
knowing  that  girls  isolated  in  boarding-schools  fall  in  love 
with  their  woman  teachers,  and  in  colleges  with  each  other, 
nevertheless  persuaded  himself  that  he  could,  in  this  in- 
stance, defeat  nature;  that  Margaret  was  being  safe- 
guarded too  absolutely  to  admit  of  her  finding  any  outlet 
whatever  for  the  pent-up  emotional  current  of  her  woman- 
hood. 

But  there  came  to  Berkeley  Hill  one  day  a  stranger,  an 
earnest  young  minister  of  Charleston,  who,  having  read  a 
magazine  article  of  Osmond  Berkeley's  in  which  "the 
hysterical,  unwholesome  excitement  of  evangelistic  re- 
vivals" was  demonstrated  to  be  purely  physiological, 
wished  to  remonstrate  with  its  author  and  point  out  to  him 
that  he  was  grievously  mistaken. 

One  keenly  appraising  glance  at  the  embarrassed,  awk- 
ward young  man  as  he  was  shown  into  the  library  where 
Berkeley  sat  in  his  armchair  before  the  fire,  with  Margaret 

[49] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

at  his  side  reading  to  him  from  a  just  published  work  by 
Josiah  Royce,  made  her  uncle  decide  that  it  would  be 
superfluous  to  send  her  from  the  room — "on  account  of  a 
creature  like  this,  with  no  manners,  no  brains,  and  an 
Adam's  apple!" 

But  it  was  the  young  man's  deadly  earnestness  in  the 
discussion  between  these  two  unequal  protagonists  that 
impressed  itself  upon  Margaret's  hungry  imagination;  his 
courage  in  coming  with  what  he  conceived  to  be  his  burn- 
ing message  of  truth  to  such  a  formidable  "enemy  to 
truth"  as  the  famous  scholar,  Dr.  Osmond  Berkeley. 
Evidently,  the  young  man's  conscience,  in  spite  of  his  pain- 
ful shyness,  had  lashed  him  to  this  visit,  more  dreadful 
than  a  den  of  lions.  There  were  still,  even  in  these  days, 
it  seemed,  martyrs  for  religion. 

Now,  while  Margaret  of  course  recognized  the  intel- 
lectual feebleness  of  the  young  minister's  side  of  the  ques- 
tion which  was  under  fire,  nevertheless,  before  his  visit 
was  concluded,  his  brow  wore  for  her  a  halo;  his  thin  little 
voice  was  rich  music  to  her  quivering  nerves;  his  un- 
sophisticated manner  the  outward  sign  of  a  beautiful  sim- 
plicity; his  Adam's  apple  a  peculiar  distinction. 

Berkeley,  as  soon  as  he  found  his  visitor  a  bore,  made 
short  work  of  him  and  got  rid  of  him  without  ceremony. 
In  Margaret's  eyes  the  young  man  stood  up  to  his  rebuffs 
like  a  hero  and  a  martyr. 

Her  uncle  did  not  notice,  upon  her  return  to  the  library 
after  seeing  the  young  man  into  the  hall,  how  bright  were 
her  eyes,  how  flushed  her  cheeks,  how  sensitive  the  curve 
of  her  lips. 

[50] 


"  '  Benefactor'  ?  "  she  read,  "  '  a  doer  of  kindly  deeds; 
a  friendly  helper.'  You  see,  I'm  your  benefactor,  accord- 
ing to  the  Standard  " 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"Ha,  ha!"  he  laughed  sardonically,  "wouldn't  you 
rather  go  to  hell  than  have  to  hear  him  preach?" 

"You  laugh  like  a  villain  in  a  melodrama!"  retorted 
Margaret. 

"I  haven't  laughed  for  twenty  years  except  at  damned 
fools.  When  did  you  ever  see  a  melodrama?" 

"Aunt  Virginia  took  Harriet  and  me  to  see  The  Two 
Orphans  once." 

"Damned  presumption  of  the  fellow  to  come  here  and 
take  up  my  time!  He  isn't  even  a  gentleman." 

"I  thought  you  prided  yourself  on  not  being  a  snob, 
Uncle  Osmond." 

"Don't  be  stupid.     Breeding  is  breeding" 

"Well,  what  is  good  breeding  if  it  isn't  being  courteous 
in  your  own  house?  You  may  call  that  young  man  com- 
mon, but  I  doubt  whether  he  bullies  women ! " 

"You're  cross!"  he  snapped  at  her.  "Look  pleasant!" 
he  commanded,  bringing  his  hand  down  heavily  on  the 
arm  of  his  chair. 

"I  won't!"  And  for  the  first  and  only  time  in  all  the 
eight  years  of  her  life  with  him,  Margaret  turned  upon  him 
with  a  stamp  of  her  foot. 

He  stared  at  her  incredulously. 

"You  call  that  good  breeding,  do  you,  stamping  your 
foot  at  your  benefactor?" 

"Benefactor?"'  Margaret  flew  across  the  room  and 
violently  turned  the  pages  of  the  dictionary  on  a  stand  in 
the  corner.  "'Benefactor,'"  she  read,  "'a  doer  of  kindly 
deeds;  a  friendly  helper.'  You  see,  I'm  your  benefactor,  ac- 
cording to  the  Standard." 

[51] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"You're  begging  the  question:  is  it  well-bred  for  a  young 
lady  to  stamp  her  foot?  " 

"I'm  ashamed  that  I  did  it,  Uncle  Osmond,  and  I  beg 
your  pardon." 

"Your  tone  is  not  contrite!"  he  objected.  But  an  un- 
wonted flash  in  her  eyes  made  him  see  that  this  was  one  of 
the  places  where  he  would  have  to  "draw  the  line." 

"You  are  tired,"  he  said  abruptly.  "No  wonder,  after 
listening  to  the  braying  of  that  evangelical  ass  for  nearly 
an  hour!  Put  on  your  wraps  and  take  a  run  about  the 
grounds." 

As  with  a  look  of  relief  Margaret  turned  to  leave  the 
room,  he  added  in  a  tone  that  was  almost  gentle,  "Put 
on  your  heavy  coat,  child,  the  air  is  very  raw." 

"Thank  you,  Uncle  Osmond." 

"And  come  back  looking  cheerful." 

"I  shall  have  to  turn  Christian  Scientist  if  I'm  to  be 
cheerful  under  all  circumstances — and  you  say  you  hate 
Christian  Scientists  because  they  are  always  so  damned 
pleasant." 

"You  can't  turn  Christian  Scientist  and  live  in  the  same 
house  with  me  ! " 

"But,  Uncle  Osmond,  dear,  I'm  beginning  to  see  that  a 
Christian  Scientist  is  the  only  thing  that  could  live  in  the 
same  house  with  you!" 

With  that  she  left  him,  to  a  half-hour  of  anxious  consid- 
eration of  her  final  thrust;  for  the  one  dread  that  hung  over 
his  life  was  the  possibility  of  Margaret's  deserting  him. 


[52 


MARGARET'S  suddenly  conceived  passion  for  the 
young  minister  went  through  all  the  usual  phases. 
It  was  not,  of  course,  the  individual  himself,  but 
her  impossible  inhuman  ideal  of  him,  of  which  she  was 
enamoured,  the  man  himself  was  as  unknown  to  her  as 
though  she  had  never  seen  him;  his  image  merely  served  as 
a  dummy  to  be  clothed  with  her  rich  imaginings.     The 
thought  of  him  dwelt  with  her  every  moment  of  the  day, 
making  her  absent-minded  and  listless,  or  feverishly  talk- 
ative.    She  made  excuses  to  go  frequently  to  town,  to  a 
dentist,  to  a  doctor,  to  see  Harriet,  just  for  a  chance  to 
drive  past  the  minister's  parsonage,  for  even  if  she  did  not 
catch  a  glimpse  of  him,  it  was  manna  to  her  soul  to  look 
upon  the  place  of  his  abode.     She  would  have  delighted  to 
have  lain  her  cheek  upon  the  doorsill  his  foot  had  pressed. 
The  actual  sight,  once  or  twice,  of  his  ungainly  figure  on 
the  street,  set  her  heart  to  thumping  so  that  she  could  not 
breathe.     Her   discovery,    through   a   paragraph   in   the 
religious  news  of  a  daily  paper,  that  he  was  married,  did 
not  affect  her,  for  she  was  not  conscious  of  any  desire  to 
marry  him;  she  only  wanted  to  see  him,  to  hear  him,  to 
feel  herself  alive  in  all  her  being,  in  his  presence. 

Even  the  sermon  she  managed  to  hear  him  preach  one 
Sunday  morning,  when  a  visit  from  one  of  the  scholarly 

[53] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

gentlemen  whom  her  uncle  considered  dangerous,  gave 
her  a  free  half  day,  even  her  recognition,  through  that 
sermon,  of  the  man's  mental  barrenness,  did  not  quench 
her  passion. 

What  did  finally  kill  it,  after  three  months  of  mingled 
misery  and  ecstasy,  was  an  occasion  as  trivial  as  that 
which  had  given  birth  to  it.  One  day,  in  front  of  a  gro- 
cery shop,  where  some  provisions  were  being  piled  into  her 
phaeton,  and  where,  to  her  quivering  delight,  the  Object 
of  her  adoration  just  chanced  at  that  moment  to  come  to 
make  some  purchases,  she  heard  him  say  to  a  negro  em- 
ployee of  the  grocer,  "Yes,  sir,  two  pecks  of  potatoes  and 
a  head  of  cabbage;  no,  sir,  no  strawberries." 

To  say  "sir"  to  a  negro!  The  scales  fell  from  Marga- 
ret's eyes.  Her  heart  settled  down  comfortably  in  her 
bosom.  Her  nerves  became  quiet.  The  young  minister 
stood  before  her  as  he  was.  His  Adam's  apple  was  no 
longer  a  peculiar  distinction,  but  an  Adam's  apple.  For 
this  was  South  Carolina. 

Thereafter,  her  uncle  found  her  a  much  more  comfort- 
able companion.  But  keenly  observant  though  he  was, 
he  had  never  suspected  for  a  moment,  during  those  three 
months  of  Margaret's  obsession,  that  she  was  actually 
experiencing  the  thing  he  was  so  persistently  trying  to 
avert;  for  it  would  not  have  been  conceivable  to  him  that 
any  woman,  least  of  all  his  niece,  Margaret  Berkeley, 
could  fall  in  love  with  "a  milksop"  like  "Rev.  Hoops," 
as  the  poor  man's  printed  visiting  card  proclaimed  him. 

Never  in  all  the  rest  of  her  life  could  Margaret  laugh  at 
that  youthful  ordeal.  That  she  could  have  been  so  in- 

[541 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

sanely  deluded  was  a  mystery  to  wonder  over,  to  speculate 
about;  but  the  passion  itself,  the  depth,  the  height,  the 
glory  of  it,  its  revelation  of  human  nature's  capacity  for 
ecstasy — all  this  was  a  reality  that  would  always  be 
sacred  to  her. 

At  the  same  time,  her  discovery  that  an  emotional  ex- 
perience so  intense  and  vital,  so  fundamental,  could  grow 
out  of  an  absolute  illusion  and  be  so  ephemeral,  made  her 
almost  as  cynical  about  love  as  was  her  uncle  himself;  so 
that  always  after  that  the  seed  of  skepticism,  which  he  so 
earnestly  endeavoured  to  plant  in  her  mind,  fell  on  pre- 
pared soil. 

Had  Margaret  adopted  indiscriminately  her  uncle's 
philosophical,  ethical,  social,  political,  or  even  literary 
ideas,  it  would  certainly  have  unfitted  her  for  living  in  a 
society  so  complacent,  optimistic,  and  conventional  as  that 
of  most  American  communities.  As  it  was,  the  opinions 
she  did  come  to  hold,  from  her  intercourse  with  this  fear- 
less, if  pessimistic,  thinker,  and  from  her  wide  and  varied 
reading  with  him,  and  also  the  ideals  of  life  she  formed  in 
the  solitude  which  gave  her  so  much  time  for  thought, 
were  unusual  enough  to  make  her  unique  among  women. 
One  aspect  of  this  difference  from  her  kind  was  that  she 
was  entirely  free  from  the  false  sentimentality  of  the  aver- 
age young  woman,  and  this  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  she  was 
fervently  imaginative  and,  in  a  high  degree,  sensitive  to 
the  beauty  and  poetry  of  life.  Another  and  more  radical 
point  of  difference  was  that  she  had  what  so  very  few 
women  do  have — spiritual  and  intellectual  fearlessness. 
And  both  of  these  mental  attitudes  she  owed  not  only  to 

[55] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

her  own  natural  largeness  of  heart  and  mind,  but  to  the 
strong  bias  given  her  by  her  uncle  toward  absolute  hon- 
esty. 

While,  by  reason  of  her  more  than  ordinary  mentality, 
as  well  as  because  of  a  very  adaptable  disposition,  Mar- 
garet bore  her  life  of  self-sacrifice  and  isolation  with  less 
unhappiness  than  most  girls  could  have  done,  there  was 
one  phase  of  it  which  was  vastly  harder  upon  her.  Her 
nature  being  unusually  strong  in  its  affections,  it  took  hard 
schooling  indeed  before  she  could  endure  with  stoicism  the 
loveless  life  she  led.  It  was  upon  her  relation  with  her 
elder  sister  Harriet,  the  only  human  being  who  really  be- 
longed to  her,  that  she  tried  to  feed  her  starved  heart,  cher- 
ishing almost  with  passion  this  one  living  bond;  idealizing 
her  sister  and  her  sister's  love  for  her,  looking  with  an 
intensity  of  longing  to  the  time  when  she  would  be  free 
to  be  with  Harriet,  to  lavish  upon  her  all  her  unspent  love, 
to  live  in  the  happiness  of  Harriet's  love  for  her. 

Harriet's  lukewarmness,  not  manifest  under  her  easy, 
good-natured  bearing,  was  destined  one  day  to  come  as  a 
great  shock  to  Margaret. 

It  was  one  night  about  five  months  before  her  uncle's 
sudden  death  that  he  talked  with  her  of  his  will.  They 
were  together  in  the  library,  waiting  for  Henry,  the  negro 
manservant,  to  finish  his  night's  chores  about  the  place 
before  coming  to  help  the  master  of  the  house  to  bed. 

"I  trust,  Margaret,"  Berkeley,  with  characteristic 
abruptness,  broke  a  silence  that  had  fallen  between  them, 
"that  you  are  not  counting  on  flourishing  as  an  heiress 
when  I  have  passed  out?" 

[561 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"I  must  admit,"  said  Margaret  apologetically,  "that 
I  never  thought  of  that,  stupid  as  it  may  seem  to  you, 
Uncle  Osmond.  Now  that  you  mention  it,  it  would  be 
pleasant." 

" ' Pleasant? '     To  have  me  die  and  leave  you  rich? " 
"I  mean  only  the  heiress  part  would  be  pleasant — and 
having  English  dukes  marrying  me,  you  know,  and  all 
that." 

"How  many  English  dukes,  pray?     I  fancy  they  are  a 
high-priced  commodity,  and  my  fortune  isn't  colossal." 
"I  shouldn't  want  a  really  colossal  fortune." 
"Modest  of  you.     But,"  he  added,  "if  I  did  mean  to  do 
you  the  injury  of  leaving  you  all  I  have,  it  would  be  more 
than  enough  to  spoil  what  is  quite  too  rare  and  precious 
for  spoiling" — he  paused,  his  keen  eyes  piercing  her  as  he 
deliberately  added — "a  very  perfect  woman." 

"Meaning  me?"  Margaret  asked  with  wide-eyed  as- 
tonishment. 

"  So  I  don't  intend  to  leave  you  a  dollar." 
"  Suit  yourself,  honey." 

"You  are  like  all  the  Berkeleys,  entirely  lacking  in 
money  sense.  Now  the  lack  of  money  sense  is  refreshing 
and  charming,  but  disastrous.  I  shall  not  leave  my  money 
to  you  for  four  reasons."  He  counted  them  off  on  his 
long,  emaciated  fingers.  "First,  because  you  wouldn't 
be  sufficiently  interested  in  the  damned  money  to  take  care 
of  it;  secondly,  you'd  give  it  away  to  your  sister,  or  to  her 
husband,  or  to  your  own  husband,  or  to  any  one  that  knew 
how  to  work  you ;  thirdly,  riches  are  death  to  contentment 
and  to  usefulness  and  the  creator  of  parasitism;  fourthly, 

[57] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

I  wish  you  to  be  married  for  your  good,  sweet  self,  my  dear 
child,  and  not  for  my  money." 

"But  if  I'm  penniless,  /  may  have  to  marry  for  money. 
From  what  you  tell  me  of  love,  money  is  the  only  thing  left 
to  marry  for.  And  if  it  has  to  be  a  marriage  for  money, 
I  prefer  to  be  the  one  who  has  the  money,  if  you  please, 
Uncle  Osmond." 

"Well,  you  won't  get  mine.  I  tell  you  you  are  worth 
too  much  to  be  turned  into  one  of  these  parasitical  women 
who  are  the  blot  on  our  modern  civilization.  In  no  other 
age  of  the  world  has  there  been  such  a  race  of  feminine 
parasites  as  at  the  present.  Let  me  tell  you  something, 
Margaret:  there  is  just  one  source  of  pure  and  unadulter- 
ated happiness  in  life,  and  that  I  bequeath  to  you  in  with- 
holding from  you  my  fortune.  Congenial  work,  my  girl, 
is  the  only  sure  and  permanent  joy.  Love?  Madness  and 
anguish.  Family  affection?  Endless  anxiety,  heart- 
ache, care.  You  are  talented,  child;  discover  what  sort 
of  work  you  love  best  to  do,  fit  yourself  to  do  it  preemi- 
nently well,  and  you'll  he  happy  and  contented." 

"But  my  gracious!  Uncle  Osmond,  what  chance  have  I 
to  fit  myself  for  an  occupation,  out  here  at  Berkeley 
Hill,  taking  care  of  you?  These  years  of  my  youth  in 
which  I  might  be  preparing  for  a  career  I'm  devoting 
to  you,  my  dear.  So  I  really  think  it  would  only  be 
poetic  justice  for  you  to  leave  me  your  money,  don't 
you?" 

Her  uncle,  looking  as  though  her  words  had  startled 
and  surprised  him,  did  not  answer  her  at  once.  Con- 
sidering her  earnestly  as  she  sat  before  him,  the  firelight 

[581 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

shining  upon  her  dark  hair  and  clear  olive  skin,  the  peculiar 
expression  of  his  gaze  puzzled  Margaret. 

"That,"  he  said  slowly,  "is  an  aspect  of  your  case  I 
had  not  considered." 

"Of  course  you  had  not;  it  wouldn't  be  at  all  like  you 
to  have  considered  it,  my  dear." 

"Well,"  he  snapped,  "my  will  is  made.  I'm  leaving 
all  I  have,  except  this  place,  for  the  founding  of  a  college 
which  shall  be  after  my  idea  of  a  college.  Berkeley  Hill, 
however,  must,  of  course,  remain  in  the  family." 

"Don't,  for  pity's  sake,  burden  the  family  (that's 
Harriet  and  me)  with  Berkeley  Hill,  Uncle  Osmond,  if 
you  don't  give  us  the  wherewithal  to  keep  it  up  and  pay 
the  taxes  on  it!"  protested  Margaret. 

Again  her  uncle  gazed  at  her  with  an  enigmatical  stare. 
"Huh!"  he  muttered,  "you've  got  some  money  sense 
after  all.  More  than  any  Berkeley  /  ever  met." 

"I  know  this  much  about  money,"  she  said  senten- 
tiously:  "that  while  poverty  can  certainly  rob  us  of  all 
that  is  worth  while  in  life,  wealth  can't  buy  the  two  es- 
sentials to  happiness — love  and  good  health." 

" Since  when  have  you  taken  to  making  epigrams?" 

"Why,  that  is  an  epigram,  isn't  it!  Good  enough  for 
a  copybook." 

"I  tell  you,  girl,  if  I  leave  you  rich,  I  rob  you  of  the 
necessity  to  work,  and  that  is  robbing  you  of  life's  only 
worth.  The  most  pitiable  wretches  on  the  face  of  the 
earth  are  idle  rich  women." 

"  If  it's  all  the  same  to  you,  Uncle  Osmond,  I'd  rather  take 
my  chances  for  happiness  with  riches  than  without  them." 

[59] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"I  am  to  understand,  then,  that  you  actually  have  the 
boldness  to  tell  me  to  my  face  that  you  expect  me  to  leave 
to  you  all  I  die  possessed  of?  " 

"Yes,  please." 

"It's  wonderfully  like  your  damned  complacency! 
Well,  as  I've  told  you,  I've  already  made  my  will." 

"Here's  Henry  to  take  you  upstairs.  But  you  can 
make  it  over,  or  add  a  codicil.  Which  shall  I  bring  you 
to-night,  an  eggnog  or  beer?" 

" I'm  sick  of  all  your  slops.     Let  me  alone." 

"Yes,  dear.  Good-night,"  she  answered  with  the 
perfunctory,  artificial  pleasantness  which  she  always  em- 
ployed, as  per  contract,  in  responding  to  his  surliness;  and 
the  absurdity,  as  well  as  the  audacity,  of  that  bought-and- 
paid-for  cheerfulness  of  tone,  never  failed  to  entertain  the 
old  misanthrope. 

Five  months  later  the  will  which  Osmond  Berkeley's 
lawyer  read  to  the  "mourners"  gave  Berkeley  Hill  to 
Margaret  and  her  sister,  Mrs.  Walter  Eastman,  while  all 
the  rest  of  the  considerable  estate  was  left  to  a  board  of 
five  trustees  to  be  used  for  the  founding  of  a  college  in 
which  there  should  be  absolute  freedom  of  thought  in 
every  department,  such  a  college  as  did  not  then  exist  on 
the  face  of  the  earth. 

Harriet's  husband,  being  a  lawyer,  offered  at  once  to 
secure  for  Margaret,  through  process  of  law,  a  reasonable 
compensation  for  her  eight  years  of  service.  But  Mar- 
garet objected. 

"You  see  Uncle  Osmond  didn't  wish  me  to  have  any  of 
his  money,  Walter." 

[60] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"Don't  be  sentimental  about  it,  Margaret.  Your 
uncle  had  a  lot  of  sentiment,  didn't  he,  about  your  sacri- 
ficing your  life  for  him?  " 

"He  had  his  reasons  for  not  giving  me  his  money.  He 
sincerely  thought  it  would  be  better  for  me  not  to  have  it. 
He  really  did  have  some  heart  for  me,  Walter.  I'm  not 
sentimental,  but  I  couldn't  touch  a  dollar  he  didn't  wish 
me  to  have." 

"Then  you  certainly  are  sentimental,"  Walter  insisted. 

Almost  immediately  after  the  funeral  Harriet  and  her 
family  moVed  out  from  Charleston  to  live  at  Berkeley 
Hill  with  Margaret,  retaining  the  two  old  negroes  who 
for  so  many  years  had  done  all  the  work  that  was  done  on 
the  estate. 

"  We  couldn't  rent  the  place  without  spending  thousands 
in  repairing  it,  so  we'll  have  to  live  on  it  ourselves." 

The  sentiment  that  Margaret  and  Harriet  cherished  for 
this  old  homestead  which  had  for  so  long  been  occupied  by 
some  branch  of  the  family  was  so  strong  as  to  preclude  any 
idea  of  selling  the  place. 

It  was  Margaret's  wish,  at  this  time,  to  go  away  from 
Berkeley  Hill  and  earn  her  own  living,  as  much  for  the 
adventure  of  it  as  because  she  thought  she  ought  not  to 
be  a  burden  to  Walter.  But  the  Southerner's  principle 
that  a  woman  may  with  decency  work  for  her  living  only 
when  bereft  of  all  near  male  kin  to  earn  it  for  her  led 
Walter  to  protest  earnestly  against  her  leaving  their 
joint  home. 

Harriet,  too,  was  at  first  opposed  to  it. 

"You  could  be  such  a  help  and  comfort  to  me,  Margaret, 
[61] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

dear,  if  you'd  stay.  Henry  and  Chloe  are  too  old  and  have 
too  much  work  to  do  on  this  huge  place  to  help  me  with 
the  children;  and  out  here  I  can't  do  as  I  did  in  Charleston 
— get  in  some  one  to  stay  with  the  babies  whenever  I 
want  to  go  anywhere.  So  you  see  how  tied  down  I'd  be. 
But  with  you  here,  I  should  always  feel  so  comfortable 
about  the  children  whenever  I  had  to  be  away  from  them." 

"But  for  what  it  would  cost  Walter  to  support  me, 
Harriet,  dear,  you  could  keep  a  nurse  for  the  children." 

"And  spend  half  my  time  at  the  Employment  Agency. 
A  servant  would  leave  as  soon  as  she  discovered  how 
lonesome  it  is  out  here,  a  half  mile  from  the  trolley  line. 
It's  well  Henry  and  Chloe  are  too  attached  to  the  place  to 
leave  it." 

"  So  the  advantage  of  having  me  rather  than  a  child's 
nurse  is  that  I'd  be  a  fixture?"  Margaret  asked,  hiding 
with  a  smile  her  inclination  to  weep  at  this  only  reason 
Harriet  had  to  urge  for  her  remaining  with  her. 

"Of  course  you'll  be  a  fixture,"  Harriet  answered  af- 
fectionately. "Walter  and  I  are  only  too  glad  to  give 
you  a  home." 

So,  for  nearly  a  year  after  her  uncle's  death,  Margaret 
continued  to  live  at  Berkeley  Hill. 

Harriet  always  referred  to  their  home  as  "My  house," 
"My  place,"  and  never  dreamed  of  consulting  her  younger 
sister  as  to  any  changes  she  saw  fit  to  make  in  the  rooms 
or  about  the  grounds. 

It  was  during  these  first  weeks  of  Margaret's  life  with 
Harriet  that  she  suffered  the  keen  grief  of  finding  her  own 
warm  affection  for  her  sister  thrown  back  upon  itself  in 

[62] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

Harriet's  want  of  enthusiasm  over  their  being  together; 
her  always  cool  response  to  Margaret's  almost  passionate 
devotion;  her  abstinence  from  any  least  approach  to 
sisterly  intimacy  and  confidence.  It  was  not  that  Harriet 
disliked  Margaret  or  meant  to  be  cold  to  her.  It  was  only 
that  she  was  constitutionally  selfish  and  indifferent. 

So,  in  the  course  of  time,  Margaret  came  to  lavish  all 
the  thwarted  tenderness  of  her  heart  upon  her  sister's  three 
very  engaging  children. 

But  before  that  first  year  of  her  new  life  had  passed  over 
her  head  she  came  to  feel  certain  conditions  of  it  to  be 
so  unbearable  that,  in  spite  of  Walter's  protests  (only 
Walter's  this  time),  she  made  a  determined  effort  to  get 
some  self-supporting  employment.  And  it  was  then  that 
she  became  aware  of  a  certain  fact  of  modern  life  of  which 
her  isolation  had  left  her  in  ignorance:  she  discovered  that 
in  these  days  of  highly  specialized  work  there  was  no  em- 
ployment of  any  sort  to  be  obtained  by  the  untrained. 
School  teachers,  librarians,  newspaper  women,  even  shop- 
girls, seamstresses,  cooks,  and  housemaids  must  have 
their  special  equipment.  And  Margaret  had  no  money 
with  which  to  procure  this  equipment.  There  is,  perhaps, 
no  more  tragic  figure  in  our  strenuous  modern  life  than  the 
penniless  woman  of  gentle  breeding,  unqualified  for  self- 
support. 

The  worst  phase  of  Margaret's  predicament  was  that 
it  had  become  absolutely  impossible  for  her  to  continue 
to  live  longer  under  the  same  roof  with  Walter  and  Har- 
riet. The  simple  truth  was,  Harriet  was  jealous  of  Wal- 
ter's quite  brotherly  affection  for  her — for  so  Margaret 

[63] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

interpreted  his  kindly  attitude  toward  her.  Having  no 
least  realization  of  her  own  unusual  maidenly  charm,  the 
fact  that  her  brother-in-law  was  actually  fighting  a  grande 
passion  for  her  would  have  seemed  to  her  grotesque, 
incredible;  for  Walter,  being  a  Southern  gentleman,  con- 
trolled his  feelings  sufficiently  to  treat  her  always  with 
scrupulous  consideration  and  courtesy.  Therefore,  she 
considered  Harriet's  jealousy  wholly  unreasonable.  Why, 
her  sister  seemed  actually  afraid  to  trust  the  two  of  them 
alone  in  the  house  together!  (Margaret  did  not  dream 
that  Walter  was  afraid  to  trust  himself  alone  in  the  house 
with  her.)  And  if  by  chance  Harriet  ever  found  them  in 
a  tete-a-tete,  she  would  not  speak  to  Margaret  for  days, 
and  as  Walter,  too,  was  made  to  take  his  punishment, 
Margaret  was  sure  he  must  wish  her  away.  Of  course, 
since  she  had  become  a  cause  for  discord  and  unhappiness 
between  Harriet  and  Walter,  she  must  go.  A  way  must 
be  found  for  her  to  live  away  from  Berkeley  Hill. 

It  was  this  condition  of  things  which  she  faced  the  night 
she  lay  on  the  couch  in  her  sister's  room  keeping  guard  over 
her  sleeping  children  while  Harriet  and  Walter  were  seeing 
Nazimova  in  "Hedda  Gabler." 


[64] 


VI 


WALTER  EASTMAN,  on  his  way  to  town  next 
morning,  to  his  law  office,  considered  earnestly 
his  young  sister-in-law's  admonition  given  him 
just  after  breakfast,  that  he  must  that  day  borrow  for  her  a 
sufficient  sum  of  money  to  enable  her  to  take  the  course  of 
instruction  in  a  school  for  librarians,  giving  as  security  a 
mortgage  on  her  share  in  Berkeley  Hill.  And  the  con- 
clusion to  which  his  weighty  consideration  of  the  prop- 
osition brought  him  was  that  instead  of  mortgaging 
their  home,  he  would  bring  Daniel  Leitzel,  Esquire,  out  to 
Berkeley  Hill  to  dinner. 

"Margaret's  never  had  a  chance.  She's  never  in  her 
life  met  any  marriageable  men.  It's  about  time  she  did. 
She  hasn't  the  least  idea  what  a  winner  she'd  be,  given  her 
fling!  And  the  sooner  she's  married,"  he  grimly  told 
himself,  "the  better  for  me,  by  heaven!" 

Walter  was  too  disillusioned  as  to  the  permanence  and 
reality  of  love  to  feel  any  scruples  about  letting  Margaret 
in  for  matrimony  with  a  man  twenty  years  her  senior 
and  of  so  little  personal  charm  as  was  the  prominent 
Pennsylvania  lawyer,  Mr.  Leitzel,  so  long  as  the  man  was 
decent  (as  Leitzel  so  manifestly  was)  and  a  gentleman.  It 
would  have  taken  a  keener  eye  than  Walter  Eastman's 
to  have  perceived,  on  a  short,  casual  acquaintance,  that 

[65] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

the  well-mannered,  able,  and  successful  corporation  lawyer 
was  not,  in  Walter's  sense,  a  gentleman.  For  Daniel  had, 
ever  since  the  age  of  ten,  been  having  many  expensive  "ad- 
vantages." 

And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  that  same  evening  found 
Mr.  Leitzel,  after  a  dainty  and  beautifully  appointed 
dinner  at  Berkeley  Hill,  alone  with  his  host's  young  sister- 
in-law,  in  the  wonderfully  equipped  library  of  the  late  em- 
inent Dr.  Osmond  Berkeley. 

His  comely  hostess,  Mrs.  Eastman,  had  excused  herself 
after  dinner  to  go  to  her  babies,  and  Eastman  himself  had 
just  been  called  to  the  telephone. 

Daniel,  always  astutely  observant,  recognized  their 
scheme  to  leave  him  alone  with  this  marriageable  young 
lady  of  the  family,  while  Margaret  herself  never  dreamed 
of  such  a  thing. 

Daniel  was  always  conscious,  in  the  presence  of  young 
women,  of  his  high  matrimonial  value.  He  had  always 
regarded  his  future  wife,  whoever  she  might  be,  as  a  very 
fortunate  individual  indeed.  His  sisters,  in  whom  his 
faith  was  absolute,  had,  for  twenty-five  years,  been  in- 
stilling this  dogma  into  him.  Also,  Daniel  was  mistaking 
the  characteristic  Southern  cordiality  of  this  family  for 
admiration  of  himself.  Especially  this  attractive  girl, 
alone  with  him  here  in  the  great,  warm,  bright  room, 
packed  with  books  and  hung  with  engravings  and  prints, 
manifested  in  her  attentive  and  pleasant  manner  how 
irresistible  she  found  him.  Daniel  loved  to  be  made  much 
of.  And  by  such  a  girl  as  this!  The  blood  went  to  his 
head  as  he  contemplated  her,  seated  before  him  in  a  low 

[661 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

chair  in  front  of  the  big,  old-fashioned  fireplace,  dressed 
very  simply  all  in  white.  How  awfully  attractive  she 
was!  Odd,  too,  for  she  wasn't,  just  to  say,  a  beauty. 
Daniel  considered  himself  a  connoisseur  as  to  girls,  and 
he  was  sure  that  Miss  Berkeley's  warm  olive  skin  just 
escaped  being  sallow,  that  her  figure  was  more  boyish 
than  feminine,  and  her  features,  except,  perhaps,  her 
beautiful  dark  eyes,  not  perfect.  But  it  was  her  arresting 
individuality,  the  subtle  magnetism  that  seemed  to  hang 
about  her,  challenging  his  curiosity  to  know  more  of  her, 
to  understand  her,  that  fascinated  him  in  a  manner  unique 
in  his  experience  of  womankind.  Subtle,  indeed,  was 
the  attraction  of  a  woman  who  could,  in  just  that  way, 
impress  a  mind  like  Daniel's,  which,  extraordinarily  keen 
in  a  practical  way,  was  almost  devoid  of  imagination. 
But  everything  this  evening  conduced  to  the  firing  of 
what  small  romantic  faculty  he  possessed:  the  old  home- 
stead suggestive  of  generations  of  ease  and  culture,  the 
gracious,  soft-voiced  ladies,  their  marked  appreciation  of 
himself  (which  was  of  course  his  due),  the  good  dinner 
served  on  exquisite  china  and  silver  in  the  spacious  dining- 
room  (Daniel,  in  his  own  home,  had  never  committed 
the  extravagance  of  solid  mahogany,  oriental  rugs,  and 
family  portraits,  but  he  had  gone  so  far  as  to  price  them 
and  therefore  understood  what  an  "outlay"  must  have 
been  made  here).  And  then  the  beautiful  drawing-room 
into  which  he  had  been  shown  upon  his  arrival,  furnished 
in  antique  Hepplewhite,  the  walls  hung  with  Spanish 
and  Dutch  oils.  And  now  this  distinguished  looking 
library  in  which  they  sat.  Almost  all  the  books  Daniel 

[671 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

possessed,  besides  his  law  books,  were  packed  into  a  small 
oak  bookcase  in  his  own  bedroom.  But  here  were  books 
in  many  languages;  hundreds  of  old  volumes  in  calf  and 
cloth  that  showed  long  and  hard  usage,  as  well  as  shelves 
and  shelves  of  modern  works  in  philosophy,  science,  his- 
tory, poetry,  and  fiction.  What  would  it  feel  like  to  have 
been  born  of  a  race  that  for  generations  had  been  educated, 
rich,  and  respectable — not  to  remember  a  time  when  your 
family  had  been  poor,  ignorant,  obscure,  and  struggling 
for  a  bare  existence?  In  New  Munich  the  "aristocracy" 
was  made  up  of  people  who  kept  large  department  or 
jewellery  or  drug  stores,  or  were  in  the  wholesale  grocery 
business;  even  Congressman  Ocksreider  had  started  life 
as  an  office  boy  and  Judge  Miller's  father  had  kept  a 
livery  stable.  This  home  seemed  to  stand  for  something 
so  far  removed  from  New  Munich  values !  And  these  two 
ladies  of  the  house — he  was  sure  he  had  never  in  his  life 
met  any  ladies  so  "elegant  and  refined"  in  their  speech, 
manner,  movements,  and  appearance. 

Daniel's  recognition  of  all  this,  however,  did  not  humble 
or  abash  him.  He  had  too  long  enjoyed  the  prerogative 
that  goes  with  wealth  not  to  feel  self-assured  in  any  circum- 
stances, and  his  attitude  toward  mankind  in  general  was 
patronizing. 

It  never  occurred  to  him  for  an  instant  that  a  family 
living  like  this  could  be  poor.  Wealth  seemed  to  him  so 
essentially  the  foundation  of  civilization  that  to  be  en- 
joying social  distinction,  ease,  comfort,  and  even  luxury, 
with  comparative  poverty,  would  have  savoured  of  an- 
archy. 

[68] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

Margaret,  meantime,  was  regarding  "Walter's  odd  little 
lawyer-man,"  who  had  been  quite  carelessly  left  on  her 
hands,  with  rather  lukewarm  interest,  though  there  were 
some  things  about  him  that  did  arrest  her  curious  atten- 
tion :  the  small,  sharp  eyes  that  bored  like  gimlets  straight 
through  you,  and  the  thin,  tightly  closed  lips  that  seemed 
to  express  concentrated,  invincible  obstinacy. 

"No  wonder  he's  a  successful  lawyer,"  she  reflected. 
"No  detail  could  escape  those  little  eyes,  and  there'd  be 
no  appeal,  I  fancy,  from  his  viselike  grip  of  a  victim. 
He'd  have  made  even  a  better  detective." 

The  almost  sinister  power  of  penetration  and  strength 
of  will  that  the  man's  sharp  features  expressed  seemed  to 
her  grotesquely  at  variance  with  his  insignificant  physique. 

"There  never  has  been  a  great  woman  lawyer,  has 
there?"  she  asked  him,  "except  Portia?" 

"'Portia?'  Portia  who?  I  had  not — you  mean,  per- 
haps, some  ancient  Greek?"  asked  Daniel.  "Ah!"  he 
exclaimed,  "'The  quality  of  mercy  is  not  strained!'  Yes. 
Just  so.  Portia.  "Merchant  of  Venice,"  he  added, 
looking  highly  pleased  with  himself.  "I  studied  drama 
in  my  freshman  year  at  Harvard." 

"Did  you?" 

"Yes.  My  sisters  had  me  very  thoroughly  educated. 
Very  expensively,  too.  But  this  'Portia' — she  was  of 
course  a  fictitious,  not  a  historic,  character,  if  I  remember 
rightly.  Women  haven't  really  brains  enough,  or  of  the 
sort,  that  could  cope  with  such  severe  study  as  that  of  the 
law."  He  waved  the  matter  aside  with  a  gesture  of  his 
long,  thin  fingers. 

[69] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"I'm  not  sure  of  that,"  Margaret  maintained. 

"But  the  courtroom  is  no  place  for  a  decent  woman," 
said  Daniel  dogmatically. 

"But  she  could  specialize.  These  are  the  days,  I'm 
told,  when  to  succeed  is  to  specialize.  She  wouldn't  need 
to  practise  in  the  criminal  courts." 

"I  trust,"  said  Daniel  stiffly,  "you  are  not  a  Suffragist. 
You  don't  look  like  one." 

"How  do  they  look?" 

"I  never  saw  one,  for  we  don't  have  them  in  New 
Munich,  where  I  live.  But  I'm  sure  they  don't  look  so 
womanly  as  you  do." 

"I  hope  that  to  look  womanly  isn't  to  look  stupid," 
said  Margaret  solicitously. 

"Why  should  it? — though  to  be  sure  a  woman  does  just 
as  well  if  she  isn't  too  bright." 

"If  to  be  womanly  meant  all  that  some  men  seem  to 
think  it  means,  we'd  have  to  have  idiot  asylums  for 
womanly  females,"  declared  Margaret.  "  I  suppose  " — she 
changed  the  subject  and  perfunctorily  made  conversation — 
"a  lawyer's  work  is  full  of  interest  and  excitement?" 

"Well,"  Mr.  Leitzel  smiled,  "in  these  days,  a  lawyer 
for  a  corporation  has  got  to  be  Johnny-on-the-spot." 

"I  have  always  thought  that  a  general  practitioner 
must  often  find  his  work  a  terrible  strain  upon  his  sym- 
pathies," said  Margaret. 

"Oh,  no;  business  is  business,  you  know." 

"And  necessarily  inhuman?" 

"Unhuman,  rather.  A  man  must  not  have  'sympathies' 
in  the  practice  of  the  law." 

[70] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"He  can't  help  it,  can  he? — unless  he's  a  soulless 
monster." 

Daniel  looked  at  her  narrowly.  What  a  queer  ex- 
pression for  a  young  lady  to  use:  "a  soulless  monster." 

"Your  brother-in-law,  for  instance,"  he  inquired  with 
his  thin,  tight  little  smile,  "does  he,  as  a  general  practi- 
tioner, find  his  cases  a  great  strain  on  his  sympathies? 

"Oh,  he  hasn't  enough  cases  to  find  them  a  great  strain 
of  any  kind." 

"So?"  Daniel  lifted  his  pale  eyebrows.  It  was,  then, 
inherited  wealth,  he  reflected,  that  maintained  this 
luxurious  home,  and  if  so,  this  Miss  Berkeley,  probably, 
shared  that  inheritance.  His  heart  began  to  thump  in 
his  narrow  chest.  His  calculating  eye  scanned  the  girl's 
figure,  from  her  crown  of  dark  hair  to  her  shapely  foot. 

Now  it  is  necessary  to  state  just  here  that  Daniel's  one 
vulnerable  spot  being  his  fondness  for  young  pets  of  any 
species  and  especially  for  children,  together  with  his  deep- 
seated  aversion  to  the  idea  of  his  money  going  to  the 
offspring  of  his  brother  Hiram  (for,  of  course,  he  would 
never  will  a  dollar  of  it  away  from  the  Leitzel  family),  this 
shrewd  little  man  never  appraised  a  woman's  matrimonial 
value  without  considering  her  physical  equipment  for 
successful  motherhood.  He  had  even  read  several  books 
on  the  subject  and  had  paid  a  big  fee  to  a  specialist  to 
learn  how  to  judge  of  a  woman's  health  and  capacity  for 
child-bearing.  The  distinguished  specialist  had  laughed 
with  his  amante  afterward  at  the  way  he  had  "bluffed  and 
soaked  the  rich  little  cad." 

"I  certainly  did  make  him  pay  up!"  he  had  chuckled. 

[71] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"And  as  he'll  never  find  just  the  combination  of  physical 
and  mental  endowments  I've  prescribed  for  him,  I've 
saved  some  woman  from  the  fate  of  becoming  his  wife! 
Money-making  is  his  passion — a  woman  will  never  be — 
and  his  interest  in  it  is  matched  only  by  his  keenness  and 
his  caution.  He's  a  peculiar  case  of  mental  and  spiritual 
littleness  combined  with  an  acumen  that's  uncanny,  that's 
genius!" 

It  was,  in  fact,  Daniel's  failure  to  discover  a  maiden 
who  answered  satisfactorily  to  all  the  tests  with  which 
this  specialist  had  furnished  him,  together  with  his  sister's 
helpful  judgment  in  "sizing  up"  for  him  any  possible 
candidate  for  his  hand,  that  had  thus  far  kept  him  un- 
married; that  had,  he  was  sure,  saved  him  from  a  mat- 
rimonial mistake. 

As  to  his  view  of  his  own  fitness  for  fatherhood,  had  he 
not  always  led  a  clean  and  wholesome  life?  Was  he  not 
expensively  educated,  clever,  industrious,  honest  within 
the  law,  and  eminently  successful?  What  man  could  give 
his  children  a  better  heritage? 

Yet  the  day  came  when  the  wife  of  his  bosom  wondered 
whether  she  committed  a  crime  in  bearing  offspring  that 
must  perpetuate  the  soul  of  Daniel  Leitzel. 

"This  estate,"  Daniel  cautiously  put  out  a  feeler  to 
Miss  Berkeley,  "belonged  to  your  grandfather?" 

"To  several  of  my  grandfathers.  It  came  to  us  from 
my  uncle." 

"A  lawyer?" 

"Dr.  Osmond  Berkeley,  the  psychologist,"  Margaret 
said,  thinking  this  an  answer  to  the  question,  for  she  had 

[72] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

never  in  her  life  met  any  one  who  did  not  know  of  her 
famous  uncle.  "My  goodness!"  she  exclaimed  as  she  saw 
that  Mr.  Leitzel  looked  unenlightened,  "you  don't  know 
who  he  was?  He's  turning  in  his  grave,  I'm  sure!" 

"I  never  heard  of  him,"  said  Daniel  sullenly. 

Margaret  smiled  kindly  upon  him  as  she  said  confi- 
dentially: "Between  ourselves,  I  don't  myself  know  just 
exactly  what  a  psychologist  is.  I've  been  trying  for  nine 
years  to  find  out — though  my  uncle  earned  his  living  by 
it — and  a  good  living,  too." 

"Didn't  he  ever  explain  it  to  you?" 

"Oh,  yes.  He  told  me  a  psychologist  was  'one  who 
studies  the  science  which  treats  inductively  of  the  phe- 
nomena of  human  consciousness,  and  of  the  nature  and 
relations  of  the  mind  which  is  the  subject  of  such  phe- 
nomena.'" 

Daniel  looked  at  her  uncertainly.  Was  she  laughing  at 
him?  "It's  just  mental  science,  you  know,"  he  ventured. 
"I  studied  a  little  mental  science  at  college.  It  was  com- 
pulsory. But  I  studied  it  so  little,  I  didn't  really  know 
very  much  about  it." 

"If  you  had  studied  it  a  lot,  say  under  William  James 
or  Josiah  Royce,  I'm  sure  you'd  know  even  less  about  it 
than  you  do  now.  My  own  experience  is  that  the  more 
one  studies  it,  the  less  one  knows  of  it." 

"Are  you  a  college  graduate?"  Daniel  asked  with  sharp 
suspicion;  he  didn't  care  about  tying  up  with  an  intellectual 
woman.  The  medical  specialist  had  said  they  were  usu- 
ally anaemic,  passionless,  and  childless. 

"No,"  Margaret  admitted  sadly.  "I  never  went  to 
[73] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

school  after  I  was  sixteen."  Daniel  breathed  again  and 
beamed  upon  her  so  approvingly  that  she  hastened  to 
add:  "But  I  lived  here  with  Uncle  Osmond,  so  I  could 
not  escape  a  little  book-learning.  I'm  really  not  an  ig- 
norant person  for  my  years,  Mr.  Leitzel." 

"I  can  see  that  you  are  not,"  Daniel  graciously  allowed. 
"Are  you  fond  of  reading?"  he  added,  conversationally, 
not  dreaming  how  stupid  the  question  seemed  to  the 
young  lady  he  addressed. 

"Well,  naturally,"  she  said. 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so,  with  such  a  library  as  this  in  the 
house.  It  belongs  to — to  you?" 

"What?  The  books?"  she  vaguely  repeated.  "They 
go,  of  course,  with  the  house.  Do  you  accomplish  much 
reading  outside  of  your  profession,  Mr.  Leitzel?" 

"No." 

"Not  even  an  occasional  novel?" 

"I  never  read  novels.  I  did  read  'Ivanhoe'  at  Harvard 
in  the  freshman  English  course.  But  that's  the  only  one." 

Margaret  stared  for  an  instant,  then  recovered  herself. 
"I  see  now,"  she  said,  "why  you  have  done  what  they 
call  'made  good.'  You  have  specialized,  excluding  from 
your  life  every  other  possible  interest  save  that  one  little 
goal  of  your  ambition." 

"'Little  goal?'  Not  very  little,  Miss  Berkeley!  The 
law  business  of  which  I  am  the  head  earns  a  yearly  in- 
come of " 

But  he  stopped  short.  If  this  girl  were  destined  to  the 
good  fortune  of  becoming  Mrs.  Leitzel,  she  must  have  no 
idea  of  the  size  of  his  income.  Nobody  had,  not  even  his 

[74] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

sisters.  He  often  smiled  in  secret  at  his  mental  picture 
of  the  astonishment  and  delight  of  Jennie  and  Sadie  if 
suddenly  told  the  exact  figures;  and  certainly  his  wife 
was  the  last  person  in  the  world  who  must  know.  It 
might  make  her  extravagant. 

"The  annual  earnings  of  our  law-firm,"  he  changed  the 
form  of  his  sentence,  "are  sufficient  to  enable  me  to  invest 
some  money  every  year,  after  paying  the  twenty-five 
lawyers  and  clerks  in  my  employ  salaries  ranging  from 
twenty-five  hundred  dollars  a  year  down  to  five  dollars 
a  week.  So  you  see  my  'goal'  was  not  little." 

"I  suppose  even  your  five-dollar-a-week  clerks  have  to 
be  especially  equipped,  don't  they?"  Margaret  asked, 
with  what  seemed  to  him  stupid  irrelevance,  since  he  was 
looking  for  an  exclamation  of  wonder  and  admiration  at 
the  figures  stated. 

"Of  course,  we  employ  only  experienced  stenographers," 
he  curtly  replied. 

"This  specializing  of  our  modern  life,  narrowing  one's 
interests  to  just  one  point;  one  can't  help  wondering  what 
effect  it's  going  to  have  upon  the  race." 

"Eugenics,"  Daniel  nodded  intelligently.  "You  are 
interested  in  eugenics?"  he  politely  inquired.  "It's  quite 
a  fad  these  days,  isn't  it,  among  the  ladies,  and  even  among 
some  gentlemen,  if  one  can  believe  the  newspapers." 

"It's  not  my  fad,"  said  Margaret. 

"You  like  children,  I  hope?"  he  quickly  asked. 

"Do  I  look  like  a  woman  who  doesn't?"  she  protested, 
not,  of  course,  following  his  train  of  thought.  She  rose, 
as  she  spoke,  and  went  across  the  room  to  turn  down  a 

[75] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

hissing  gas-jet.  Daniel's  eyes  followed  her  graceful, 
leisurely  walk  down  the  length  of  the  room,  and  as  she 
raised  her  arm  above  her  head,  he  took  in  the  delicate 
curve  of  her  bosom,  her  rather  broad,  boyish  shoulders, 
the  clear,  rich  olive  hue  of  her  skin.  The  specialist  he 
had  consulted  years  ago  had  said  that  a  clear  olive  skin 
meant  not  only  perfect  health,  but  a  warm  temperament 
that  loved  children. 

"Anyway,"  thought  Daniel  with  a  hot  impulse  the  like 
of  which  his  slow  blood  had  never  known,  "she's  the 
woman  I  want!  I  believe  I'd  want  her  if  she  didn't  have 
a  dollar!" 

It  wras  upon  this  reckless  conclusion  that,  when  she  had 
returned  to  her  seat,  he  suddenly  decided  to  put  a  question 
to  her  that  would  better  be  settled  before  he  allowed  his 
feelings  to  carry  him  too  far. 

"But,"  thought  he  as  he  looked  at  her,  "I've  got  to 
put  it  cautiously  and — and  delicately." 

"Miss  Berkeley?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Leitzel?" 

"I've  been  thinking  of  buying  myself  an  automobile." 

"Have  you?" 

"A  very  handsome  and  expensive  one,  you  know." 

"Ah!" 

"Yes.     But  now  I'm  hesitating  after  all." 

"Are  you?" 

"Yes.  Because  there's  another  expense  I  may  have  to 
meet.  I'm  going  to  ask  you  a  question.  Which,  in  a 
general  way,  do  you  think  would  cost  more  to  keep — an 
automobile  or — or  a — well,  a  wife?" 

[76] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"Oh,  an  automobile!"  laughed  Margaret. 

Daniel  grinned  broadly  as  he  gazed  at  her;  evidently 
she  suspected  the  delicate  drift  of  his  idea  and  was  ad- 
vising him  for  her  own  advantage.  Nothing  slow  about 
her! 

"Wives  are  cheap  compared  to  automobiles,"  she 
insisted. 

"You  really  think  so?"  He  couldn't  manage  to  keep 
from  his  voice  a  slight  note  of  anxiety.  "Living  here 
with  your  married  sister,  you  are  in  a  position  to 
judge." 

Margaret  began  to  wonder  whether  this  man  were  a 
humourist  or  an  idiot.  But  before  she  could  reply,  their 
t6te-a-tete,  so  satisfactory  to  Mr.  Leitzel,  was  interrupted. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Eastman  returned  to  the  library. 

Now  as  the  formality  of  chaperoning  was  not  practised 
in  New  Munich,  Daniel,  with  all  his  "advantages,"  hadnever 
heard  of  it.  When,  therefore,  the  Eastmans  settled  them- 
selves with  the  evident  intention  of  remaining  in  the  room, 
their  guest  found  himself  feeling  chagrined,  not  only  be- 
cause he  preferred  to  be  alone  with  Miss  Berkeley,  but 
because  the  conclusion  was  forced  upon  him  that  he  must 
have  been  mistaken  in  assuming  that  they  had  designedly 
left  him  with  her  after  dinner. 

This  conclusion  was  confirmed  when  Miss  Berkeley, 
quite  deliberately  leaving  the  obligation  of  entertaining 
him  to  her  elders,  changed  her  seat  to  a  little  distance 
from  him,  and  in  the  conversation  that  followed  took 
very  little  part.  She  even  seemed,  in  the  course  of  a  half- 
hour,  rather  bored  and — Daniel  couldn't  help  seeing  it — 

[77] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

sleepy.  Could  it  be,  he  wondered  with  a  sinking  heart, 
that  she  was  already  engaged  to  another  man?  How  else 
explain  this  indifference? 

But  as  the  evening  moved  on,  and  the  married  pair,  in 
spite  of  some  subtle  hints  on  his  part,  still  sat  glued  to  their 
chairs,  though  he  could  see  that  they,  too,  were  tired  and 
sleepy,  he  surmised  that  their  "game"  was  to  hinder 
Miss  Berkeley's  marriage! 

"They'd  like  to  keep  her  money  in  the  family  for  their 
children,  I  guess!"  he  shrewdly  concluded. 

The  easy  indifference  to  money  that  was  characteristic 
of  the  whole  tribe  of  Berkeleys  would  have  seemed  an 
appalling  shortcoming  to  Daniel  Leitzel  had  he  been  cap- 
able of  conceiving  of  such  a  mental  state. 

With  a  mind  keen  to  see  minute  details,  interpreting 
what  he  saw  in  the  light  of  his  own  narrow,  if  astute,  vision, 
and  incapable  of  seeing  anything  from  another's  point  of 
view,  he  came  to  more  false  conclusions  than  a  wholly 
stupid  and  less  observant  man  would  have  made. 

When  after  another  half-hour  Miss  Berkeley,  evidently 
considering  him  entirely  her  brother-in-law's  guest,  rose, 
excused  herself,  said  good-night  and  left  the  room,  Daniel 
could  only  reason  that  Mr.  Eastman  had  purposely  with- 
held from  her  all  knowledge  as  to  who  his  dinner  guest 
was. 

"I'll  circumvent  that  game!"  he  concluded,  opposition, 
together  with  the  indifference  of  the  young  lady  herself, 
augmenting  to  a  fever  heat  his  budding  passion.  "I'll 
let  her  know  who  and  what  I  am!" 

Indeed,  by  the  time  he  left  Berkeley  Hill  that  night,  so 
[78] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

enamoured  was  he  with  the  idea  of  courting  Miss  Berkeley, 
he  did  not  even  remember  that  in  a  matter  so  important 
he  had  never  in  his  life  gone  ahead  without  first  consulting 
his  sisters'  valuable  opinion.  That  phase  of  the  situation, 
however,  was  to  come  home  to  him  keenly  enough  later 
on. 


[79] 


VII 


MARGARET  was  surprised  next  morning  at  break- 
fast when  a  humorous  reference  on  her  part  to 
"Walter's  funny  little  Yankee"  met  with  no 
response. 

"But,  Walter,  he's  a  freak!  Didn't  you  find  him  so, 
Harriet?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  WTalter  says  he's  a  wonder  in  his 
knowledge  of  the  law." 

"He  has  one  of  the  keenest  legal  minds  I've  ever  met," 

declared  Walter,  "though  of  course "  He  looked  at 

Margaret  uncertainly.  "  Well,  Margaret,  after  your  eight 
years  with  a  highbrow  like  your  Uncle  Osmond,  most 
other  men  must  seem,  by  contrast,  rather  stupid  to  you. 
Even  7,"  he  smiled  whimsically,  "must  feel  abashed 
before  such  a  standard  as  you've  acquired.  But  really, 
one  can't  despise  a  man  who  has  reached  the  place  in  his 
profession  that  Leitzel  has  attained,  even  if  he  is  a  bit — 
eh,  peculiar." 

It  never  occurred  to  Walter  to  recommend  Leitzel  by 
mentioning  that  he  was  a  millionaire,  the  man's  prominence 
in  his  profession  being,  in  Eastman's  eyes,  the  measure 
of  his  value. 

"It's  going  to  be  rather  rough  on  your  husband,  Mar- 
garet," Walter  teased  her,  "to  have  to  play  up  to  the 

[801 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

intellectual  taste   of  a  wife  that's  lived  with   Osmond 
Berkeley." 

"But,  Walter,  other  things  may  appeal  to  me:  kindness 
and  affection,  for  instance.  My  life,  you  know,"  she  said 
gravely,  "has  been  pretty  devoid  of  that." 

There  was  a  moment's  rather  awkward  silence  at  the 
table,  which  Margaret  herself  quickly  broke.  "This  Mr. 
Leitzel — there's  something  positively  uncanny  in  the  way 
he  seems  to  see  straight  through  you  to  your  back  hooks 
and  eyes;  and  I'm  quite  sure  if  there  was  a  small  safety 
pin  anywhere  about  me  last  night  where  a  hook  and  eye 
should  have  been,  he  knew  it  and  disapproved  of  it.  I'm 
certain  that  details  like  safety  pins  interest  him;  he  has 
that  sort  of  mind,  if  he  is  a  great  lawyer." 

" Not  great,"  Walter  corrected  her.  "I  didn't  say  great. 
He's  able  and  skillful;  but,  I  must  admit,  very  limited  in 
his  scope,  his  field  being  merely  the  legal  technicalities 
involved  in  the  management  of  a  corporation.  However, 
he's  a  nice  enough  little  fellow.  Didn't  you  find  him  so?" 

"I'm  afraid  I  found  him  rather  absurd  and  tiresome." 

"Take  care,  Margaret!"  Harriet  playfully  warned  her, 
"or  else — oh!  won't  you  have  to  be  explaining  away  and 
apologizing  for  the  things  you  are  saying  about  that  man. 
He's  smitten  with  you!" 

Margaret's  eyes  rested  upon  Harriet  for  a  moment, 
while  her  quick  intuition  recognized  just  why  her  joking 
remarks  about  Mr.  Leitzel  had  met  with  no  response  in 
kind :  her  sister  was  actually  seeing  in  this  queer  little  man 
a  possible  means  of  getting  rid  of  her,  and  Walter  was 
abetting  her! 

[811 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

She  turned  at  once  to  the  latter,  swallowing  the  lump 
that  had  risen  in  her  throat.  "Have  you  done  anything, 
Walter,  about  securing  me  a  loan  on  our  property?" 

"I'm  doing  my  best  for  you,  Margaret." 

"  Thank  you.     Any  chance  of  success  ?  " 

"I  think  so."  He  looked  at  her  with  a  smile  that  was 
rather  enigmatic,  and  she  saw  that  he  was  really  evadingher. 

"You  know,  Margaret,"  spoke  in  Harriet,  "I  shouldn't 
consent  for  a  moment  to  have  a  mortgage  put  on  my  prop- 
erty." 

"Tut,  tut,  Harriet,"  Walter  checked  his  wife.  "Leave 
it  to  me.  Perhaps  a  mortgage  won't  be  necessary." 

He  rose  hastily,  made  his  adieus,  and  departed  for  his 
office. 

"Margaret,  dear,"  Harriet  began  as  soon  as  they  were 
alone,  "I  assure  you  that  to  an  unprejudiced  observer, 
last  night,  the  state  of  Mr.  Leitzel's  mind  was  only  too 
manifest!  You'd  have  seen  it  yourself  if  you  weren't  so 
inexperienced." 

"What  are  the  signs,  Harriet?  I  confess  I'd  like  to  be 
able  to  recognize  them  myself." 

"You  sat  almost  behind  him  and  he  nearly  cracked  his 
neck  trying  to  keep  you  in  view.  And  when  Walter  drove 
him  to  the  trolley  line  he  talked  of  you  all  the  way:  said 
he  liked  your  'colouring'  and  your  'motherly  manner/ 
and  your  hair  and  your  voice  and  your  smile  and  your 
walk!  I'm  not  making  it  up — he's  simply  hard  hit, 
Margaret." 

"You'd  like  Mr.  Leitzel  for  a  brother-in-law,  would  you, 
Harriet?" 

[82] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"I  shouldn't  see  much  of  him,  living  'way  up  in  Penn- 
sylvania." 

Margaret,  who  had  not  yet  given  up  craving  wistfully 
her  sister's  affection,  turned  her  eyes  to  her  plate  and 
stirred  her  coffee  to  hide  the  sensitive  quiver  of  her  lips. 

"We'd  see  each  other  very  seldom,  certainly,  if  I  lived 
in  Pennsylvania,"  she  found  voice  to  say  after  a  moment. 
"  I'll  go  up  to  the  baby,  now,  Harriet,  and  let  Chloe  come 
down." 

When  later  that  morning  a  delivery  wagon  left  at 
Berkeley  Hill  two  boxes,  one  containing  violets,  the  other 
orchids,  and  a  boy  on  a  bicycle  arrived  with  a  five-pound 
box  of  Charleston's  most  famous  confectionery,  all  from 
Mr.  Leitzel  to  Miss  Berkeley,  Margaret  was  forced  to  take 
account  of  the  situation. 

Of  course  she  could  not  know  (fortunately  for  her  ad- 
mirer) that  the  lavishness  of  his  offerings  had  been  care- 
fully calculated  to  impress  upon  her  the  fact  which  he 
suspected  her  relatives  of  concealing  from  her — the  all- 
persuasive  fact  that  he  was  rich. 

A  telephone  call  inviting  her  to  go  automobiling  with 
him  that  afternoon  was  answered  by  Harriet,  who  at  once 
accepted  the  invitation  for  her  without  consulting  her. 

"I'm  perfectly  willing,  dear,  to  give  up  Mattie  St. 
Glair's  auction  bridge  this  afternoon  and  chaperon  you," 
Harriet  graciously  told  her  after  informing  her  of  the  en- 
gagement she  had  made  for  her.  "Chloe  will  have  to 
keep  the  children." 

Margaret  made  no  reply.  All  these  manifestations  of 
Harriet's  eager  anxiety  to  be  rid  of  her  stabbed  her  miser- 

[831 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

ably.  She  went  away  to  her  own  room,  just  as  soon  as 
her  regular  domestic  routine  was  accomplished,  and  shut 
herself  in  to  think  it  all  out. 

The  fact  that  she  had,  because  of  the  secluded  life  she 
had  led,  reached  the  age  of  twenty-five  without  ever  having 
had  a  lover,  must  account  for  her  feelings  this  morning 
toward  Daniel  Leitzel,  her  sense  of  gratitude  (under  the 
soreness  of  her  heart  at  her  sister's  attitude  to  her)  that 
any  human  being  should  like  her  and  be  kind,  to  the  ex- 
tent of  such  munificence  as  this  which  filled  her  room  with 
fragrance  and  beauty.  No  wonder  that  for  the  time  being 
she  lost  sight  of  the  little  man's  grotesqueness  in  her  keen 
consciousness  of  his  kindness,  and  of  the  novelty  of  being 
admired — by  a  man.  Yes,  her  momentary  blindness 
even  saw  him  as  a  man.  Not  even  the  cards  which  came 
with  his  offerings — the  one  in  the  candy  box  marked 
"Sweets  to  the  Sweet,"  and  that  with  the  flowers  labelled, 

Thou  shall  not  lack 

The  flower  that's  like  thy  face. — SHAKESPEARE. 

gave  her  more  than  a  faint,  passing  amusement. 

"The  flower  that's  like  thy  face';  he  should  have  sent 
me  a  sunflower  or  a  tiger-lily,"  she  ruefully  told  herself  as 
she  glanced  at  her  dark  head  in  a  mirror.  But  she  re- 
called something  she  had  once  said  to  her  Uncle  Osmond: 
"  I'd  be  grateful  even  to  a  dog  that  liked  me." 

It  was  Harriet,  not  Margaret,  who  was  shocked  that 
afternoon  at  the  revelation  of  poor  Daniel's  "greenness" 
when  he  found  that  Mrs.  Eastman  expected,  as  a  matter 
of  course,  to  chaperon  her  young  sister. 

[841 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

Daniel  interpreted  this  unheard-of  proceeding  as  another 
proof  of  his  sharp  surmise  of  the  previous  night — the 
penurious  determination  of  the  Eastmans  to  keep  Miss 
Berkeley  unmarried.  He  resented  accordingly  the  inter- 
ference with  his  own  desires  and  the  persecution  of  the 
young  lady.  He  would  show  this  greedy  sister  of  Miss 
Berkeley  that  he  was  not  the  man  to  be  balked  by  her 
scheming,  and  incidentally  he  would  win  the  admiration 
and  gratitude  of  the  girl  herself  by  his  clever  foiling  of 
the  designs  of  her  relatives. 

"  I'm  very  good  to  you  and  my  sister,  Mr.  Leitzel,"  Harriet 
assured  him  as  she  and  Margaret  shook  hands  with  him  in 
the  hall,  both  of  them  wrapped  up  for  riding.  "I  am 
giving  up  an  auction  bridge  this  afternoon  to  go  with  you." 

"To  go  with  us?  But — but  you  misunderstood  my 
invitation,  I  invited  only  Miss  Berkeley,"  explained 
Daniel  frankly. 

"Oh,  you  have  another  chaperon  then?  If  only  you 
had  told  me  so  when  you  'phoned  this  morning  I  needn't 
have  given  up  my  bridge  party." 

"Told  you  what,  Mrs.  Eastman?" 

"That  you  already  had  a  chaperon." 

"Had  a— what?" 

"Haven't  you  a  chaperon,  Mr.  Leitzel?" 

"'Chaperon?'  But  this  isn't  a  boarding-school,  Mrs. 
Eastman!" 

Harriet  turned  away  to  hide  her  face,  but  Margaret 
laughed  outright  as  she  asked  him:  "Don't  they  have 
chaperons  in  Pennsylvania,  Mr.  Leitzel,  to  protect  guile- 
less and  helpless  maidens  of  twenty-five  from  any  breach 

[85] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

of  strict  propriety  while  out  alone  with  dashing  youths 
like  you?  " 

"If  my  sister  went  out  alone  with  you  in  Charleston t 
Mr.  Leitzel,"  explained  Harriet  with  dignity,  "she  would 
be  criticised." 

"But — but,"  stammered  Daniel  indignantly,  "I'm  a 
trustworthy  man,  Mrs.  Eastman!  A  perfectly  trust- 
worthy gentleman!" 

"My  dear  Mr.  Leitzel,  I  know  you  are!  It's  only  a 
custom  among  us  that — oh,  come  on,  let  us  start!  I'm 
sorry,  Mr.  Leitzel,  but  I'm  afraid  you'll  have  to  put  up 
with  me." 

"Yes,  do  let  us  start;  we  don't  want  to  miss  a  minute 
of  this  lovely  day!"  said  Margaret  brightly,  moving 
toward  the  door  and  drawing  her  sister  with  her.  "I  very 
seldom  get  a  chance  to  ride,  and  I  love  it.  You  are  so 
kind,  Mr.  Leitzel,"  she  chatted  as  they  went  down  the 
steps  to  the  waiting  car,  "to  give  me  this  pleasure,  besides 
the  beautiful  flowers  and  delicious  candy!"  And  thus 
Daniel,  though  inwardly  fuming,  and  wondering  at  Miss 
Berkeley's  amiable  submission  to  such  unwarrantable 
meddling  in  her  personal  affairs,  was  forced  to  accept 
with  what  grace  he  could  command  the  doubt  cast  upon 
his  "trustworthiness." 

As  he  assisted  the  two  ladies  into  the  automobile, 
Harriet  of  her  own  accord  took  the  front  seat  with  the 
chauffeur;  and  Daniel,  as  he  realized  how  entirely  isolated 
with  Miss  Berkeley  this  arrangement  left  him,  felt  himself 
thoroughly  puzzled  by  the  whole  incomprehensible  pro- 
ceeding. 

[86] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

As  on  the  previous  evening  Miss  Berkeley's  Southern 
cordiality  of  manner  was  interpreted  by  Daniel  during 
this  drive  to  be  a  gushing  warmth  of  feeling  for  himself, 
which  fanned  the  flame  of  his  egotism  no  less  than  that  of 
his  passion. 

While  the  car  moved  swiftly  through  the  picturesque 
roads  outside  of  Charleston  he  discoursed  volubly;  for 
Daniel's  idea  of  an  enjoyable  conversation  was  a  prolonged, 
uninterrupted  exposition,  on  his  part,  to  a  silently  ab- 
sorbed listener,  of  his  personal  interests,  achievements, 
excellencies  of  character,  and  general  worthiness.  He  knew 
no  greater  joy  in  life  than  this  sort  of  expansion  before  an 
admiring  or  envious  companion.  He  fairly  revelled  this 
afternoon  in  the  steady,  monotonous  stream  of  self -eulogy 
which  flowed  from  his  lips.  It  was  meant  to  impress  pro- 
foundly the  maiden  at  his  side,  and  it  did. 

"People  call  me  lucky,  Miss  Berkeley,  but  it  isn't  luck; 
it's  deep  thinking.  Nobody  could  be  lucky  that  didn't 
use  his  judgment  and  keep  a  sharp  lookout  for  the  main 
chance.  To  have  the  wit  to  see  and  seize  the  main  chance," 
he  reiterated  with  an  accent  that  made  Margaret  see  the 
words  in  large  capitals,  "that's  the  secret  of  success. 
Don't  you  think  so?" 

"Yes,  indeed — the  point  of  importance  being  not  to 
confuse  one's  values — material  success  and  spiritual  de- 
feat not  always  being  recognized,  Mr.  Leitzel,  as  twin 
sisters.  We  don't  want  to  miss  the  main  chance  to  grow 
in  grace  and — dear  me!"  she  pulled  herself  up.  "It 
sounds  like  Marcus  Aurelius,  doesn't  it?  Did  you  make 
his  acquaintance  at  Harvard?" 

[87] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"Who?" 

"The  Roman  Emerson." 

"  Oh,  but  Emerson  was  a  New  Englander,  not  a  Roman," 
he  kindly  set  her  right ;"  known  as  the  Sage  of  Concord ,  Mass- 
achusetts," he  informed  her,  looking  pleased  with  himself. 

Harriet  in  the  front  seat  could  not  resist  turning  her 
head  to  meet  for  an  instant  Margaret's  eye. 

"I  had  to  read  a  'Life  of  Emerson'  in  my  Sophomore 
year  at  Harvard,"  continued  Daniel.  "  Do  you  know  that 
his  writings  never  yielded  him  more  than  nine  hundred 
dollars  a  year !  Well  educated  as  he  was,  he  never  made 
good.  A  dead  failure.  Missed  the  main  chance,  you  see. 
Now  7  have  always  turned  every  circumstance  and  oppor- 
tunity, no  matter  how  trifling,  to  my  own  advantage. 
Why,  from  the  time  I  first  began  to  practise  law,  I  refused 
to  take  any  case  that  I  didn't  see  I  was  surely  going  to 
win;  so,  in  no  time  at  all,  I  got  a  reputation  for  winning 
every  case  I  took.  See?  I  didn't  take  a  case  I  didn't 
feel  sure  of  winning.  Good  scheme,  wasn't  it?  Well,  that 
far-sighted  policy  reaped  for  me,  very  early  in  my  career, 
a  big  harvest;  for  when  I  was  just  beginning  to  be  known 
as  the  lawyer  who  never  lost  a  case,  there  was,  one  night, 
a  shocking  crime  committed  in  New  Munich:  a  young 
girl,  daughter  of  a  carpenter,  was  supposed  to  have  been 
foully  and  brutally  murdered  by  her  lover,  the  son  of  a 
petty  grocer  on  one  of  our  side  streets.  (My  own  residence 
is  on  Main  Street,  our  principal  resident  street,  a  very 
fashionable  street;  house  cost  me  twenty-five  thousand! — 
one  of  the  finest  residences  in  the  town — so  considered  by 
all.)  Well,  the  evidence  against  the  lover  was  over- 

[88] 


HER    HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

whelming  (I  couldn*t  give  you  the  details,  Miss  Berkeley, 
it  would  not  be  proper,  you  being  a  young,  unmarried 
lady),  and  earl  on  the  morning  after  the  murder  the 
grocer  came  to  -see  me  on  behalf  of  his  son,  begging  me 
to  take  the  cas  e.  He  gave  me  all  the  facts  and  I  saw  very 
soon  that  tb  e  young  man  had  not  committed  the  crime. 
But  I  saw,  also,  that  it  would  be  very  difficult  to  prove 
his  innocen  ce  to  a  jury,  and  I  knew  the  sentiment  in  the 
town  to  be  furiously  against  the  young  man,  especially 
among  th«a  women,  so  that  I'd  be  apt  to  make  myself  very 
unpopular  if  I  took  his  case;  and  that  even  if  I  cleared 
him  the  ?re  would  be  many  who  would  continue  to  think 
him  guilty  and  to  think  that  I  had  simply  cheated  the 
law  b.y  my  cleverness;  cheated  moral  justice,  too,  and  left 
a  fou.lly  murdered  female  go  unavenged,  all  for  the  sake 
of  TA  fee.  So  I,  of  course,  refused  to  take  the  case,  though 
th'e  grocer,  believing  me  to  be  the  one  lawyer  who  could 
cl<iar  his  son  (such  was  my  growing  reputation),  offered 
n.ie  a  very  large  fee;  he  was  ready  to  mortgage  his  store 
and  house  if  only  I'd  take  the  case  and  save  his  son.  The 
fee  he  offered  certainly  did  make  me  hesitate;  but  you  see, 
I  was  never  one  to  let  present  profit  blind  me  to  future 
advantage.  Most  young  men,  less  far-seeing  and  sharp, 
would  have  thought  this  a  great  opportunity  to  make  a 
hit  by  clearing  a  falsely  accused  and  perfectly  innocent 
boy.  But  I  saw  much  deeper  into  the  situation,  and  so 
refused  the  case." 

"Oh!"  Margaret  cried.  "There  you  surely  missed  the 
'main  chance,'  unless  you  afterward  saw  your  mistake  in 
time  to  change  your  mind. " 

[891 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PUJRSE 

"No,  indeed,  I  didn't  change  my  m\ind!  And  to  show 
you  how  right  I  was  in  refusing  the  cas<3,  hear,  now,  of  the 
immediate  reward  I  reaped  for  my  careful  thoughtfulness. 
Hardly  had  the  father  left  my  office  when  a  delegation  of 
women  of  the  U.  B.  Missionary  Society  (1  am  a  member 
and  liberal  supporter  of  the  U.  B.  Church  of  Vew  Munich, 
my  brother  Hiram  being  an  ordained  U.  B.  min  ister)  called 
at  my  office  to  protest  against  my  taking  the  ca'se  for  the 
young  man's  defence,  the  delegation  including  two  very 
wealthy  and  prominent  ladies.  A  false  report  had  gone 
forth  that  I  had  taken  the  case.  The  ladies  pointed  out 
to  me  that  I  would  be  untrue  to  my  Christian  professions 
and  unchivalrous  to  womanhood  if  for  gold  I  stood  up  in 
court  and  defended  the  brutal  murderer  of  an  outraged, 
innocent  female.  'Ladies,'  I  said  to  them,  'the  case  was 
offered  to  me,  true;  with  a  fee  which  some  lawyers  would 
have  considered  sufficient  to  justify  their  accepting  evon 
such  a  case  as  this.  But,  ladies,  I  refused  to  touch  the 
case!'  and,  Miss  Berkeley,"  said  Daniel  feelingly,  a  little 
quiver  in  his  voice,  "I  wish  you  could  have  seen  the  look 
of  admiration  on  the  faces  of  those  ladies,  especially  on 
Miss  Mamie  Welchan's,  one  of  the  two  unmarried  mem- 
bers of  the  Missionary  Society,  daughter  of  Dr.  Welchans, 
our  leading  physician.  Well,  I  certainly  had  my  reward! 
And  that  night  the  New  Munich  Evening  Intelligencer 
came  out  with  a  long  article  commending  my  fearless  and 
self-sacrificing  devotion  to  duty;  and  the  Missionary 
Society  passed  resolutions  of  gratitude  to  me  in  the  name 
of  Womanhood,  as  did  also  the  Y.  W.  C.  A.,  the  Epworth 
League,  the  Girls'  Friendly  of  the  Episcopal  Church  (our 

[901 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

most  fashionable  ladies  are  members  of  that  Girls'  Friendly), 
also  several  of  the  Christian  Endeavour  Societies  of  our 
town.  You  may  imagine  how  glad  I  was  I  had  refused  the 
case.  Just  suppose  I  had  accepted  it!"  he  said  in  reminis- 
cent horror  of  such  a  false  step.  "  For,  of  course,  I  had  not 
foreseen  such  an  ovation  as  this.  While  I  had  seen  the  bad 
effects  of  accepting,  I  had  not  seen  the  good  results  of  refus- 
ing it.  Why,  from  that  very  hour,  Miss  Berkeley,  my  suc- 
cess was  assured !  You  see,  people  believed,  then,  that  I  was 
conscientious,  and  they  trusted  me  with  their  business,  and 
my  practice  grew  so  fast  that — well,  it  was  only  a  few  years 
before  I  rose  to  be  the  leading  lawyer  of  New  Munich,  and 
a  few  more  when  I  secured  the  cinch  I've  got  now." 

"Was  the  young  man  hanged?"  asked  Margaret  in  a 
low  voice,  not  looking  at  him. 

"Oh,  he"  returned  Daniel,  surprised  and  chagrined  at 
her  ignoring  the  real  point  of  his  story,  which  certainly 
had  nothing  to  do  with  the  fate  of  the  young  man;  "they 
failed  to  convict  him,  though  every  one  believed  him 
guilty.  He  had  to  leave  New  Munich." 

"Couldn't  you  have  proved  his  innocence?" 

"But,  Miss  Berkeley,  don't  you  see  I'd  have  ruined 
myself  if  I  had  tried,  and  I  made  myself  by  refusing  that 
case;  I  have  always  considered  that  episode  the  turning- 
point  of  my  career,  the  pivot  on  which  my  success  turned 
uppermost;  my  brother  Hiram,  who  is  a  theologian,  con- 
sidered it  Providential." 

"'Providential'  that  a  young  girl  should  be  brutally 
murdered  and  a  young  man  falsely  accused  so  that  you 
might — '  succeed? ' ': 

[911 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"I  should  say,  rather,  that  by  the  ruling  of  Providence 
the  chance  was  given  me  to  refuse  the  case  and  thereby 
win  the  enthusiastic  approval  and  endorsement  of  the  best 
class  of  our  community." 

Margaret  was  silent. 

"She  isn't  as  bright  as  I  had  supposed  she  was," 
thought  Daniel,  disappointed  at  her  want  of  admiration 
of  his  yarn.  "I  wonder  if  she'd  bear  me  stupid  children! 
If  I  thought  so,  I  certainly  wouldn't  marry  her." 

"Early  in  my  career,"  he,  however,  resumed  his  mono- 
logue, "I  took  a  stand  for  temperance.  I'm  a  total 
abstainer,  Miss  Berkeley,  and  I  have  found  that  on  the 
whole  it  has  been  to  my  advantage,  for  besides  being  more 
economical,  it  has  seemed  more  consistent  with  my  Chris- 
tian professions.  To  be  sure,  when  the  liquor  men  of 
our  precinct  practically  offered  to  send  me  to  Congress 
if  I  would  uphold  their  interests,  I  did  regret  that  I  had 
taken  such  a  decided  stand  for  temperance  that  I  couldn't 
becomingly  diverge  from  it.  I  would  have  liked  well 
enough  to  go  to  Congress.  Jennie  and  Sadie  would  have 
liked,  too,  to  have  me  a  Congressman,  and  my  brother 
Hiram  thought  if  I  were  in  Congress  I  could  maybe  work 
him  in  as  chaplain  of  the  Senate.  He  doesn't  get  a  very 
big  salary  from  his  church  at  Millerstown,  Pa.,  though 
he  manages  to  live  on  it  without  touching  his  capital. 
But  no!  I  told  the  liquor  men  I  would  not  go  back  on 
the  principles  for  which  I  had  stood  for  so  many  years. 
You  might  think  I  was  foolishly  standing  in  my  own  light, 
Miss  Berkeley,  but  I  ask  you,  how  would  it  have  looked 
for  a  church  member,  a  consistent,  practical  Christian,  an 

[92] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

upholder  of  and  contributor  to  the  Woman's  Temperance 
Union,  to  turn  around  and  stand  for  the  liquor  interests? 
How  would  it  have  looked?  Why,"  exclaimed  Daniel, 
"  it  would  have  looked  pretty  inconsistent,  and  I  wouldn't 
risk  it.  Anyway,  see  what  I  saved  in  the  past  twenty 
years  by  not  standing  for  treats?  ' Come  and  have  a  drink 
on  me,'  says  a  grateful  client,  when  I've  won  his  case  for 
him,  and  I  always  say,  'I  don't  drink';  but  if  I  did  drink, 
to  be  sure  I'd  have  to  take  my  turn  at  the  treats,  too, 
don't  you  see,  and  that  kind  of  thing  does  go  into  money. 
I've  saved  a  good  income  by  standing  for  temperance, 
besides  earning  the  approval  of  an  excellent  element  in 
the  community.  But  it  isn't  always  easy  to  say,  'I  don't 
drink.'  Some  men  take  offence  at  it,  and  some  laugh  at 
you.  I'll  never  forget  how  embarrassed  I  was  the  first 
time  Congressman  Ocksreider's  daughter  invited  me  to  a 
fashionable  dinner  at  her  home  and  they  served  wine.  I 
didn't  know  how  they'd  take  it  if  I  declined  to  drink,  and 
I  wanted  to  stand  in  with  them.  I  was,  at  that  time, 
very  much  complimented  at  their  inviting  me;  they  were 
the  most  prominent  people  in  New  Munich.  And  yet, 
sitting  opposite  me  at  the  table,  was  a  prominent  member 
of  the  U.  B.  Church,  who  would  certainly  have  a  laugh 
on  me  if  I  took  wine.  He  wasn't  temperance.  Now 
wasn't  that  a  fix  for  me?  My,  but  I  was  embarrassed! 
Well,  Mrs.  Congressman  Ocksreider,  a  lady  of  very  kind 
feelings,  came  to  my  help;  the  minute  she  saw  how 
mixed-up  I  was,  she  told  the  waiter  to  pour  grape  juice 
into  my  glass.  It's  sickening  stuff,  but  I  was  willing  to 
drink  it  rather  than  forswear  my  principles  right  before 

[931 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

my  fellow  church  member.  Yes,  it  takes  moral  courage, 
Miss  Berkeley,  to  stand  by  your  principles  as  I  have  always 
stood  by  mine.  And  now  I  see  my  further  reward  in  sight, 
for  look  how  things  are  swinging  my  way:  temperance, 
Governors,  Congressmen,  Presidents!  I  may  yet  get  to 
Congress  on  the  local  option  issue.  It  looks  that  way." 

He  paused  to  get  his  breath.  Margaret  made  no 
comment  on  his  long  harangue,  and  Harriet  did  not  turn 
her  head.  For  a  while  they  rode  in  silence.  But  at  last 
Margaret,  feeling  it  incumbent  upon  her  to  talk  to  her 
entertainer,  roused  herself  from  her  rather  unpleasant 
reverie. 

"You  spoke  of  two  women,  Mr.  Leitzel — 'Jennie  and 
Sadie' — are  they  relatives  of  yours?" 

"My  sisters  who  raised  and  educated  me,  who  made 
me  what  I  am!"  he  replied  in  a  tone  of  admiration  for  this 
remarkable  feat  his  sisters  had  wrought.  "All  I  am  I 
owe  to  them!" 

"They  are  to  be  congratulated." 

"Thank  you,  Miss  Berkeley."     Daniel  bowed. 

"You're  welcome,  Mr.  Leitzel.  Shall  we  go  home  now? 
I  feel  ill." 

"Motor  riding  makes  you  ill?"  inquired  Daniel  solici- 
tously. 

"Under  some  circumstances.     To-day  it  does." 

Daniel  at  once  gave  the  order  to  the  chauffeur  to  return 
to  Berkeley  Hill. 

Harriet,  on  the  front  seat,  wondered,  as  she  stared 
thoughtfully  at  the  long,  straight  road  ahead  of  her, 
whether  "the  game  was  up." 

[941 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"I'm  afraid  he's  more  of  a  dose  than  Margaret  can 
swallow!"  she  thought  anxiously. 

When  they  reached  home,  however,  she  invited  Mr. 
Leitzel  to  stop  and  dine  with  them.  Margaret  looked  at 
her  reproachfully  as  he  eagerly  accepted  the  invitation. 
It  was  two  long  hours  before  dinner  time. 

"You  will  have  to  excuse  me.  I  shall  have  to  go 
upstairs  and  lie  down,"  Margaret  hastily  said  as  they 
entered  the  house;  and  before  any  one  could  reply,  she 
flew  upstairs  and  shut  herself  in  her  own  room. 

Harriet,  to  her  consternation,  found  herself  with  Mr. 
Leitzel  on  her  hands — and  Walter  not  due  at  home  for  an 
hour  and  a  half ! 

"I'll  have  the  children  brought  down,"  she  quickly 
decided.  "That  will  help  me  out." 

Little  did  she  dream  that  by  this  simple  manoeuvre  of 
introducing  the  children  into  the  comedy  she  was  turning 
the  tide  of  her  sister's  life  and  settling  her  fate. 


[95] 


vm 

THREE  weeks  later,  when  Margaret  came  to  review 
the  course  of  events  which  had  strangely  led  to 
the  almost  unbelievable  fact  of  her  betrothal  to 
Daniel  Leitzel,  she  realized  that  the  "turn  for  the  worse," 
as  she  called  it,  had  come  to  her  upon  watching  Mr. 
Leitzel  with  Harriet's  children  on  that  evening  after 
the  automobile  ride  which  had  made  her  spiritually  ill. 
Squatting  on  the  floor  with  the  three  babies  gathered 
about  him,  he  had  actually  become  human  and  tender 
and  self -forgetful;  and  he  had  exhibited  a  cleverness  in 
entertaining  and  fascinating  the  bright,  eager  children 
that  had  evoked  her  admiration  and  almost  her  liking. 

She  had  not  come  downstairs  until  just  a  half-hour 
before  dinner,  and  as  she  had  entered  the  library,  dressed 
in  a  low-necked,  short-sleeved  summer  gown  of  pale  pink 
batiste,  she  had  noted,  without  much  interest,  Mr.  Leit- 
zel's  countenance  of  vivid  pleasure  as,  from  his  place  on 
the  floor,  unable  to  rise  because  of  the  children  sprawling 
all  over  him,  he  had  gazed  up  at  her.  But  when,  after 
watching  him  play  for  a  half-hour  with  the  babies,  she 
had  presently  relieved  him  of  the  youngest  to  give  it  its 
bottle,  she  really  began  to  feel,  before  the  ardent  look  he 
fixed  upon  her  as  she  sat  holding  the  hungry,  drowsy 
infant  to  her  heart,  a  faint  stirring  of  her  blood. 

[96] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"The  Madonna  and  the  Child!"  he  had  said  adoringly, 
and  Margaret  was  astonished  to  find  herself  blushing;  to 
discover  that  this  man  could  bring  the  faintest  warmth 
to  her  cheeks! 

In  the  course  of  that  evening,  during  dinner  and  later 
when  the  children  had  been  taken  to  bed  by  Harriet,  and 
Mr.  Leitzel  was  again,  as  on  the  previous  night,  left  on 
her  hands,  she  could  not  be  indifferent  to  the  novel 
experience  of  finding  herself  the  object  of  a  fixity  and 
intensity  of  admiration  which,  from  a  man  so  self-centred, 
suggested  the  possession  on  her  part  of  an  unsuspected 
power. 

Even  his  occasional  conversational  faux  pas  did  not 
break  the  peculiar  spell  he  cast  upon  her  by  his  devotion. 

"Have  you  read  many  of  these  books?"  he  asked  her, 
glancing  at  the  shelves  near  him.  "Here  are  about 
twenty  books  all  by  one  man — James.  Astonishing! 
What  does  he  find  to  write  about  to  such  an  extent?" 

"They  are  the  works  of  the  two  Jameses,  the  brothers 
Henry  and  William,  the  novelist  and  the  psychologist, 
you  know;  only,  Uncle  Osmond  insisted  upon  cataloguing 
Henry,  also,  with  the  psychologists." 

"The  James  brothers?  I've  heard  more  about  Jesse 
than  about  the  other  two.  Jesse  was  an  outlaw,  you  re- 
member. The  other  two,  then,  were  respectable?" 

" Respectable?'     Henry  and  William  James?    I'm  sure 
they  would  hate  to  be  considered  so!" 

Daniel  nodded  knowingly.  "Bad  blood  all  through,  no 
doubt." 

"Yes,"  said  Margaret  gravely,  "of  the  three  I  prefer 
[97] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

Jesse.  He  at  least  was  not  a  psychologist,  nor  did  he 
write  in  English  past  finding  out!  By  the  way,  I  remem- 
ber Uncle  Osmond  used  to  say,"  she  added,  a  reminiscent 
dreaminess  in  her  eyes  which  held  Daniel's  breathless  gaze, 
"that  only  in  a  very  primitive  or  provincial  society  was  a 
regard  for  respectability  paramount,  and  that  in  an  in- 
dividual of  an  upper  class  it  bespoke  either  assinine  stu- 
pidity or  damned  hypocrisy." 

Daniel  started  and  stared  until  his  eyes  popped,  to  hear 
that  soft,  drawling  voice  say  "damned,"  even  though 
quoting.  Why,  one  would  think  a  nice  girl  would  be 
embarrassed  to  own  a  relative  who  used  profane  language, 
instead  of  flaunting  it ! 

"Wasn't  your  uncle  a  Christian?"  he  asked  dubi- 
ously. 

"Oh,  no!  "she  laughed. 

Now  what  was  there  to  laugh  at  in  so  serious  a  question? 
Daniel  was  finding  Miss  Berkeley's  conversation  ex- 
tremely upsetting. 

"He  died  unsaved?"  he  asked  gravely. 

"I  suppose  a  mediaeval  theologian  would  have  said  he 
did." 

"I  trust  he  didn't  influence  you,  Miss  Berkeley!" 

"But  of  course,  I  got  lots  of  ideas  from  him,  for  which 
I'm  very  thankful.  If  it  had  not  been  for  his  interesting 
mind,  I  could  never  have  lived  so  long  with  his  devilish 
disposition,  or,  as  he  used  to  call  it,  his  'hell  of  a  temper.'" 
("If  he's  going  to  fall  in  love  with  me,"  Margaret  was 
saying  to  herself,  as  she  saw  his  shocked  countenance, 
"he's  got  to  know  the  worst — I  won't  deceive  him.") 

[981 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"I'm  addicted  to  only  two  vices,  Mr.  Leitzel:  profanity 
and  beer." 

Daniel  smiled  faintly,  she  looked  so  childishly  innocent. 
"You  are  different  from  any  girl  I  ever  met.  As  a  con- 
versationalist especially.  New  Munich  girjs  never  talk  the 
way  you  do." 

"You  mean  they  are  not  profane?" 

"You're  only  joking,  aren't  you?"  asked  Daniel 
anxiously.  "I  didn't  refer  merely  to  your  using  oaths, 
but  the  ideas  you  occasionally  express;  that,  for  instance, 
about  'respectability,'  I'm  sure  I  never  heard  our  New 
Munich  young  ladies  say  things  like  that.  However,"  he 
added,  his  face  softening  and  beaming,  "  nothing  you  could 
do  or  say  could  ever  counteract  for  me  the  impression 
you  made  upon  me  as  you  sat  there  to-night  holding  that 
baby!" 

"You  are  very  fond  of  children,  aren't  you,  Mr.  Leitzel?" 
she  asked  graciously. 

"Well,  I  should  say!  I'd  like  to  have  a  large  family, 
even  if  it  is  expensive!" 

"So  should  I,"  said  Margaret  frankly;  and  Daniel  had  a 
moment's  doubt  as  to  the  maidenly  modesty  of  this  reply, 
much  as  he  approved  of  the  sentiment. 

After  that  evening,  during  the  next  three  weeks,  the 
course  of  Daniel's  love  ran  swiftly,  if  not  always  smoothly; 
for  his  usually  unreceptive  soul  was  so  deeply  penetrated 
by  the  personality  of  this  maiden  whom  he  desired  that 
he  actually  felt,  intuitively,  her  aversion  to  certain  phases 
of  his  mind  the  worthiness  of  which  he  had  never  before 
had  a  doubt,  and  he  therefore  curbed,  somewhat,  the 

[99] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

expression  of  his  real  self,  adapting  his  discourse,  though 
vaguely,  to  the  evident  tastes  of  the  woman  whose  favour 
he  sought.  Also,  his  genuine  interest  in  her  made  him 
less  obnoxiously  egotistical.  Indeed,  all  his  most  offensive 
traits  were,  at  this  time,  and  unfortunately  for  poor 
Margaret's  fate,  kept  so  much  in  abeyance,  and  so 
strongly  did  she,  quite  unconsciously,  bring  out  the  little 
best  that  was  in  him,  that  her  earlier  impression  of  him 
was  speedily  coloured  over  by  the  more  gracious  effect 
he  produced  as  a  self-effacing  and  worshipful  lover — a 
lover  to  one  who,  for  many  years,  had  not  been  treated 
with  even  common  consideration. 

Had  Daniel  had  the  least  idea  how  little  Margaret  was 
touched  by  the  material  value  of  the  gifts  he  daily  laid 
at  her  feet,  he  would  certainly  have  saved  himself  some 
of  the  heavy  expenditure  he  considered  necessary  for  the 
accomplishment  of  his  courting.  If  he  had  known  that  it 
was  only  the  attention,  the  thoughtfulness,  the  devotion 
showered  upon  her  constantly  that  meant  so  much  to  her 
whose  life  had  hitherto  been  one  long  siege  of  self-sacrifice, 
he  would  surely  have  limited  the  quality,  if  not  the  quan- 
tity, of  his  offerings. 

As  Margaret  came  to  realize  that  she  was  drifting  surely, 
fatally,  into  the  arms  of  Daniel  Leitzel,  her  conscience 
forced  her  to  try  to  justify  her  selling  herself  for  a  home. 

"To  marry  without  love?  But  I  might  have  married 
'Reverend  Hoops'  for  love!  And  he  was  so  much  worse — 
less  possible,"  she  amended  her  reflections,  "than  Daniel 
is.  It  was  really  love  that  I  felt  for  that  poor,  bow-legged 
Hoops!  Yes,  the  sort  of  love  that  would  make  marriage 

[1001 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

a  madness  of  ecstasy!  Too  great,  indeed,  for  a  human 
soul  to  bear!  And  even  if  one  did  not  presently  discover 
one's  mate  to  be  a  delusion  with  an  Adam's  apple,  who 
said  'Yes,  sir,'  to  a  negro,  even  if  he  continued  to  seem  to 
you  a  worthy  object  of  love,  such  an  intoxication  of 
happiness  as  I  felt  over  my  imaginary  Hoops  could  not 
possibly  continue,  one's  strength  couldn't  sustain  it — one 
would  end  with  nervous  prostration! 

"Hattie  and  Walter,  when  they  married,  were  roman- 
tically in  love,  and  now,  what  could  be  more  prosaic  than 
their  jog-trot  relation?  So  much  for  love."  She  dis- 
missed that  phase  of  the  question. 

But  there  was  another  aspect  of  a  loveless  marriage 
that  had  to  be  reckoned  with. 

"How  would  I  be  better  than  a  woman  of  the  streets? 
Yes,  I  would  be  better,  for  I  would  bear  children.  But 
children  born  outside  of  love?  Well,  Reverend  Hoops 
might  have  been  the  father  of  my  children  even  after  I'd 
recovered  from  '  loving '  him,  and  every  one  of  my  children 
might  have  had  an  Adam's  apple.  Better,  it  seems  to  me, 
to  marry  with  eyes  open  and  not  blinded  by  'love.'  Then, 
at  least,  one  would  not  have  to  suffer  a  dreadful  flop 
afterward.  The  higher  one's  ideal  in  marriage,  the  more 
certainly  does  one  seem  doomed  to  bitter  disillusionment. 
Probably  the  jog-trot,  commonplace  relation  between  a 
man  and  woman,  recognized  and  accepted  as  such,  is  the 
only  one  likely  to  endure.  Insist  upon  romance,  and  the 
end,  I  verily  believe,  is  divorce.  Daniel  couldn't  make  me 
unhappy  any  more  than  he  could  make  me  happy — there's 
that  comfort  at  least. 

[101] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"As  for  a  great  passion  of  the  soul,  the  man  capable  of 
it  is  certainly  a  rara  avis  and  isn't  likely  to  come  my  way. 
If  I  thought,"  said  Margaret  to  herself,  her  heart  beating 
thickly  at  the  vision  she  called  up  from  the  depths  in  her, 
"that  life  held  anywhere  for  me  such  a  great  spiritual 

passion,  given  and  returned "  Her  face  turned  white, 

she  closed  her  eyes  for  an  instant  upon  the  too  dazzling 
light  of  the  vision.  "But  then,"  she  resumed  her  self- 
justification,  "if  the  highest  ideal  of  marriage  is  unreal- 
izable, should  one  compromise  with  a  lower  ideal,  or 
avoid  marriage  altogether?  I  remember  Uncle  Osmond 
once  said  it  was  a  psychological  fact  that  a  woman  was 
happier  even  in  a  loveless  marriage  than  in  a  single  life. 
And,  dear  me,  the  race  can't  stop  because  poets  have 
dreamed  of  a  paradise  which  earth  does  not  know!" 

It  seemed  to  be  another  trick  of  the  irony  of  fate  that 
while  everything  in  Margaret's  environment  and  in  her 
education  conduced  to  make  her  walk  blindly  into  such  a 
marriage  as  this  with  Daniel  Leitzel,  nothing  in  her  whole 
life  had  in  the  least  fitted  her  for  meeting  and  coping  with 
that  which  was  before  her  as  the  wife  of  such  a  man  as 
Daniel  really  was. 

She  was  glad  that  the  form  which  her  lover's  proposal 
of  marriage  assumed  obviated  any  necessity  on  her  part 
for  salving  over  her  own  lack  of  sentiment. 

"Of  course,  you  have  surmised  ere  this,  Miss  Berkeley — 
Margaret — that  I  intended  to  make  you  an  offer  of 
marriage,  to  ask  you  to  become — my  beloved  wifel"  he 
said  impressively,  and  Margaret  checked  her  inclination 
to  beg  him  not  to  make  it  sound  too  much  like  a  tomb- 

[102] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

stone  inscription.  "My  proposal  may  seem  to  you 
precipitate;  I  am  aware  it  is  unusual  to  propose  on  so 
short  a  courtship;  you  perhaps  think  I  ought  to  keep  on 
paying  attentions  to  you  for  at  least  several  months 
longer.  But  I  can  spare  so  little  time  away  from  my 
business.  And  to  court  you  by  correspondence — well,  I 
am  certainly  too  much  of  a  gentleman  to  send  typewritten 
letters,  dictated  to  my  stenographer,  to  a  lady,  especially 
one  so  refined  as  you  are  and  one  whom  I  want  to  make 
my  wife.  And  to  write  out  letters  myself,  that's  some- 
thing I  have  neither  time  nor  inclination  for.  And 
something  I'm  not  used  to  either.  So,  I  thought  that  while 
I'm  down  here  on  the  spot,  I  might  as  well  stay  and 
conclude  the  matter.  That  is  why  I  have  been  so  pressing 
in  my  attentions  to  you — not  to  lose  time,  you  see,  which 
is  money  to  me  and  should  be  to  every  man.  So  with  as 
much  haste  as  was  consistent  with  propriety  and  tact, 
Miss  Berkeley,  I've  been  leading  up  to  this  present 
hour  in  which  I  offer  you  my  hand  and  heart  and," 
he  added,  his  tone  becoming  sentimental,  "my  life's 
devotion." 

It  sounded  for  the  most  part  like  a  lawyer's  brief, 
Margaret  thought,  as,  sitting  white  and  quiet,  she  listened 
to  him. 

"You  have  given  me  every  reason  to  think,  Miss 
Berkeley,  by  your  reception  of  my  assiduous  attentions, 
that  my  suit  was  agreeable  to  you  and  that  you  would 
accept  me  when  I  asked  you  to,  in  spite  of  the  evident 
opposition  of  your  sister  and  her  husband." 

"But  they  are  not  opposed  to  you.  Why,  what  could 
[103] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

have  made  you  think  so?  They  have  been  very  kind  to 
you,  Mr.  Leitzel." 

"To  me  personally,  yes;  kind  and  hospitable.  But  as 
your  suitor?  No.  Have  they  not  persistently  put  them- 
selves in  the  way  of  my  seeing  you  alone,  and  thus  tried 
to  interfere  with  my  taking  from  them  you  and  your — 
taking  you  from  them?"  he  hastily  concluded. 

Daniel  had  been,  all  through  this  courtship,  strangely, 
and  to  himself  incomprehensibly,  shy  about  making  any 
inquiries  as  to  Margaret's  dowry,  though  he  fairly  suffered 
in  the  repression  of  his  desire  to  know  what  she  was 
"worth."  He  wondered  what  it  really  was  that  made 
him  tongue-tied  whenever  he  thought  of  "sounding"  her? 
Perhaps  it  was  that  she,  on  her  side,  was  so  persistently 
reticent  not  only  as  to  her  own  property  but  with  regard 
to  his  possessions.  Never  had  she  even  hinted  any 
curiosity  as  to  his  income,  though  he  had  several  times 
led  up  to  the  subject  in  order  to  give  her  the  necessary 
opportunity.  The  matter  would,  of  course,  have  to  be 
talked  out  between  them  some  time.  Daniel  was  all  pre- 
pared with  his  own  story;  he  knew  just  exactly  what  state- 
ments he  was  going  to  "hand  out"  to  his  future  wife 
and  what  he  was  not  going  to  tell.  But  the  strange 
thing  was  she  didn't  seem  to  feel  the  least  interest  in  the 
matter. 

When  Margaret  tried  just  now  to  assure  him  that  her 
relatives'  supposed  interference  with  his  attentions  to  her 
was  wholly  imaginary,  she  received  her  first  glimpse  of 
the  notorious  obstinacy  of  the  little  lawyer,  and  she 
recognized,  with  some  consternation,  that  when  once  an 

[104] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

idea  had  found  lodgment  in  his  brain,  it  was  there  to 
stay;  no  reasoning  or  proof  could  dislodge  it. 

"Since  your  relatives  are  opposed  to  your  marrying," 
he  reiterated  his  conviction  at  the  end  of  her  proofs  to 
the  contrary,  "I  think  it  would  be  well  if  we  got  married 
before  I  returned  to  New  Munich.  This  would  not  only 
save  me  the  expense  of  another  trip  South,  but  would 
avert  any  further  plotting  on  the  part  of  your  family. 
I'm  afraid  to  leave  the  spot,"  he  affirmed,  "without 
taking  you  with  me.  Anyway,  I  can'f."  His  face  flushed 
and  he  fairly  caught  his  breath  as  he  gazed  at  her.  "  I'm 
thinking  of  you  day  and  night,  every  hour,  every  minute ! 
If  I  went  back  without  you  I  couldn't  work.  I'm  just 
crazy  about  you ! " 

It  was  this  outburst  of  feeling  that  just  saved  the  day 
for  Daniel,  his  cold-blooded  dissection  of  his  penurious 
motives  in  his  swift  lovemaking  having  almost  turned  the 
tide  against  him. 

"If  we  marry  at  all,"  said  Margaret  in  a  matter-of-fact 
tone,  "I  agree  with  you  that  it  might  as  well  be  at  once." 

"'If  at  all?'  Ah!"  said  Daniel  almost  coquettishly, 
"that's  to  remind  me  that  you  haven't  accepted  me  yet? 
I'm  going  ahead  too  fast,  am  I?  My  feelings  ran  away 
with  me,  Margaret,  for  the  moment  because  it's  simply 
unthinkable  to  me  that  you  should  refuse  me — I  mean,  I 
could  not  think  of  life  without  you  now  that  I  know  and 
love  you." 

"Very  well,  I'll  marry  you,  Mr.  Leitzel.  I  might  as 
well.  But  if  it  is  to  be  done,  we  shall  have  to  have  a 
quiet  wedding,  you  know." 

[105] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

Calmly  as  she  spoke,  the  colour  dyed  her  cheeks  as  she 
realized  the  fatal  finality  of  the  words  she  uttered.  Deep 
down  in  her  soul,  not  clearly  recognized  by  herself,  was 
a  vague  sense  of  guilt  in  the  thing  she  was  doing,  all  her 
logic  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding.  For  every  normal 
woman  feels  instinctively  that  the  human  relation  which 
may  make  her  a  mother,  if  it  is  not  a  sacred  and  ennobling 
relation,  must  be  a  degrading  one,  and  no  experiences  of 
life,  however  embittering,  can  ever  wholly  obliterate  this 
profound  intuition.  Cynical  as  were  Margaret's  theories 
of  love  and  marriage,  she  could  never  have  given  herself 
to  Daniel  Leitzel  had  she  not  felt  goaded  to  it  by  her 
unfitness  to  earn  her  living,  and  by  her  sister's  desire  to 
have  her  away.  And  even  these  two  driving  circumstances 
could  not  wholly  exonerate  her  to  herself  from  the  charge 
before  her  conscience  of  unworthy  weakness  in  taking  an 
easy  way  out  instead  of  grappling  with  her  difficulty  and 
conquering  it,  as  great  souls,  she  very  well  knew,  have  ever 
done. 


106] 


IT  WAS  the  day  after  Daniel's  "proposal"  that,  as 
Margaret  stood  before  her  bureau  in  her  bedroom 
dressing  to  receive  her  lover,  Harriet,  who  had  been 
quite  unable  to  disguise  her  satisfaction  over  the  betrothal, 
knocked  at  her  door  and  came  into  her  room. 

"Can't  I  help  you  dress,  dear?"  she  asked  kindly. 

"Will  you  hook  this  thing  up  the  back,  please,  Hattie?" 

"Oh,  but  you  are  rash  to  wear  this  new  chiffon  waist, 
Margaret;  chiffon  mashes  so  easily,  you  know." 

"But  I'm  not  going  out;  I  shall  not  be  putting  a 
wrap  over  it,"  said  Margaret,  looking  at  Harriet  in  sur- 
prise. 

"I  know  you're  not  going  out,  but,  Margaret,  chiffon 
mashes  so  easily  !  " 

"Well,  I'll  try  to  remember  not  to  hold  any  of  the 
children,  though  I'd  rather  mash  the  waist  than  forego 
that  pleasure.  Still,  clothes  are  scarce  and  I've  got  no 
money  for  a  trousseau — 

"Donkey!  This  will  be  your  first  tete-a-tete  with  Mr. 
Leitzel  since  your  engagement,  and  he's  quite  crazy  about 
you — and  chiffon  is  most  perishable." 

Margaret  looked  at  her  blankly. 

"Do  you  see  no  connection  between  the  two  facts,  you 
goose?"  demanded  Harriet. 

[107] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Margaret.  "Now  I  see  what  you 
mean!" 

"Really?" 

"But,  Hattie,  dear,  you  needn't  be  so — so  explicit." 

"'Explicit!'  I  nearly  had  to  draw  a  diagram!  Look 
here,  Margaret,  you're  too  thin;  there's  no  excuse  for 
anybody's  looking  as  thin  as  you  do  when  cotton  wadding 
is  so  cheap." 

"Recommend  it  to  Mr.  Leitzel;  he's  thinner  than  I  am." 

"I  came  in  to  tell  you  that  Walter  has  ordered  the 
wedding  announcements  and  they  will  be  finished  in  ten 
days;  you  and  I  and  Mr.  Leitzel  can  meantime  be  ad- 
dressing the  envelopes.  I've  drawn  up  a  list  of  names; 
you  can  look  over  it  and  see  whether  I've  forgotten  any 
one.  You  must  get  Mr.  Leitzel's  list  to-day." 

"Very  well." 

Margaret  turned  away  to  her  closet  to  hide  the  quick 
tears  that  sprang  to  her  eyes  at  her  sister's  quite  cold- 
blooded eagerness  to  speed  her  on  her  way.  Harriet 
seemed  to  be  almost  feverishly  fearful  that  something 
might  intervene  to  stop  the  marriage  if  it  were  not  quickly 
precipitated. 

It  was  when  her  betrothed  gave  her,  that  evening,  a 
diamond  ring,  that  Margaret's  strongest  revulsion  came 
to  her,  so  strong  that  when  she  had  conquered  it,  by 
reminding  herself  again  of  all  the  arguments  by  which  she 
had  brought  herself  to  this  pass,  she  had  overcome  for  good 
and  all  any  last  remaining  hesitation  to  accept  her  doom. 

"You  may  think  I  was  very  extravagant,  Margaret," 
Daniel  said,  as  he  held  her  hand  and  slipped  the  beautiful 

[1081 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

jewel  upon  her  finger.  "  It  cost  me  three  hundred  dollars. 
But  you  see,  dear,  a  diamond  is  always  property;  capital 
safely  invested.  I'm  only  too  glad  and  thankful  that  I 
can  afford  to  give  my  affianced  bride  a  costly  diamond 
engagement  ring.  Is  it  tight  enough?"  he  anxiously 
inquired.  "I'm  afraid  it  is  a  little  loose;  you  better  have 
it  made  tighter;  no  extra  charge  for  that,  they  told  me  at 
the  jeweller's.  You  might  lose  it  if  it's  loose." 

Margaret  had  a  momentary  impulse  to  tear  the  ring 
from  her  finger  and  fling  it  in  his  face,  and  such  impulses 
were  so  foreign  to  her  gentle  disposition  that  she  mar- 
velled at  herself. 

"I'm  glad  it's  property,  Daniel,"  she  returned  with  a 
perfunctory  facetiousness,  "  for  if  you  don't  use  me  well, 
I  can  sell  out  to  Isaac  or  Israel  and  run  off!  Or,  if  busi- 
ness got  dull  with  you,  we  could  fall  back  on  our  dia- 
mond ring!" 

"My  business  get  dull!"  he  laughed.  It  was  rather 
delightful  to  know  she  was  marrying  him  with  so  little  idea 
of  his  great  possessions;  another  proof  of  the  fascination  he 
had  always  had  for  ladies,  according  to  Jennie  and  Sadie. 

He  was  beginning  to  feel  a  little  nervous  at  the  thought 
of  his  sisters.  Jennie,  especially,  would  not  like  it  that 
he  was  going  ahead  and  getting  married  without  con- 
sulting her.  Of  course,  she  and  Sadie  would  both  see, 
as  soon  as  they  came  to  know  Margaret,  that  he  had, 
even  without  their  help,  "struck  a  bonanza"  in  getting 
such  a  wife;  so  sweet-tempered  and  unselfish,  so  lovely 
looking,  so  healthy,  such  "a  perfect  lady/'  so  "refined," 
except  when  she  said  "damn"  and  "devilish."  He  must 

[1091 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

warn  her  not  to  forget  herself  before  his  sisters — they'd 
never  get  over  the  shock.  He  had  no  doubt  that  eventu- 
ally Jennie  and  Sadie  would  be  as  delighted  with  his 
"choice"  as  he  was  himself.  He  had  told  them  so  in  his 
letter  to  them  that  day,  assuring  them  that  they  would 
find  his  bride  possessed  of  every  quality  they  had  always 
insisted  upon  in  the  girl  he  made  his  wife. 

It  did  seem  strange  not  to  be  able  to  tell  them  what 
Margaret's  fortune  was.  He  knew  how  eager  they  must 
be  to  know.  He  was  beginning  to  feel  very  restive  himself 
at  not  being  enlightened  on  that  score. 

"Funny  how  I  can't  bring  myself  to  ask  her  about  it!" 
he  wondered  at  himself  for  the  hundredth  time.  "But 
she  seems  so  disinterested  in  her  love  for  me,  how  can  I 
seem  less  so  in  mine  for  her?  It  would  not  look  well!" 

"Harriet  wants  you  to  draw  up  your  list,"  Margaret 
here  reminded  him,  "for  the  wedding  announcements; 
she'd  like  to  have  it  to-day." 

"Harriet  wants Is  she  running  this  wedding?"  he 

asked  suspiciously. 

"Yes,  quite  so.  You  and  she  and  I  have  got  to  address 
envelopes  all  day  to-morrow,  you  know." 

"Very  well.  I  have  already  made  out  my  list.  It  took 
a  good  deal  of  careful  and  thoughtful  discrimination,"  he 
said,  drawing  a  document  from  his  pocket  and  unfolding 
it,  "though  not  nearly  so  much  as  it  would  if  I  were  being 
married  in  New  Munich  and  having  a  large  wedding. 
Mere  announcements — one  doesn't  have  to  draw  the  line 
so  carefully,  you  know,  as  in  the  case  of  invitations  to 
one's  house." 

[110] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

'"Draw  the  line?'"  repeated  Margaret  questioningly; 
for  social  caste  in  South  Carolina,  being  less  fluid  than  in 
Pennsylvania,  her  family  for  generations  had  scarcely 
even  rubbed  against  people  of  any  other  status  than  its 
own;  and  the  gradations  and  shades  of  social  difference 
with  which  Daniel  had  wrestled  in  making  his  list  was 
something  quite  outside  her  experiences. 

"Well,  you  see,  every  one  we  send  announcements  to," 
Daniel  elucidated  his  meaning,  "is  bound  to  call  on  you; 
only  too  glad  of  the  chance.  And,  naturally,  you  don't 
want  undesirable  people  calling  on  you.  If  you  didn't 
return  their  calls,  you  would  make  enemies  of  them;  and 
while  I  am  so  fortunately  situated  that  that  would  not 
make  any  material  difference  to  us,  still  it  is  better  to 
avoid  making  enemies  if  possible." 

"But — I  don't  understand.  How  do  you  happen  to 
have  acquaintances  that  are  'undesirable,'  and  in  what 
sense  undesirable — so  much  so  as  to  make  it  awkward  to 
have  to  return  their  calls?" 

"Well,  for  instance,  the  clerks  employed  in  my  office. 
I  think  they  may  perhaps  club  together  and  give  us  a 
handsome  wedding-present  if  we  send  them  cards.  And  if 
they  do,  I  suppose  their  wives  will  feel  privileged  to  call." 

"And  their  wives  are  'undesirable?'  Yes,  I  suppose  I 
see  what  you  mean.  How  awfully  narrow  our  lives  are, 
aren't  they?  I  imagine  it  might  be  a  very  broadening  and 
interesting  experience  to  really  make  friends  with  other 
classes  than  our  own.  I've  never  had  the  shadow  of  a 
chance  to." 

T)aniel's  glow  of  pride  in  realizing  that  he  was  marrying 

[1111 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

a  woman  whose  aristocratic  ignorance  of  other  classes 
than  her  own  was  so  absolute  as  to  make  her  suppose 
naively  that  it  might  be  "broadening  and  interesting"  to 
know  such,  quite  counteracted  the  disturbing  effect  of  this 
absurd  suggestion.  He  had  only  to  remember  his  sisters' 
long  struggle  for  recognition  and  their  present  precarious 
foothold  in  New  Munich  "society"  to  appreciate  to  the 
full  the  (to  him)  wonderful  fact  that  his  wife  and  all  her 
"kin,"  as  they  called  then*  relatives,  "could  have  it  to 
say"  they  had  always  been  "at  the  top." 

That  such  a  wife  might  find  his  sisters  "undesirable" 
did  not  occur  to  him,  his  sense  of  his  sisters'  crudities  be- 
ing dulled  by  familiarity  with  them,  and  his  standard  of 
value  being  so  largely  a  financial  one. 

"When  folks  call  on  you  in  New  Munich,  Margaret," 
said  Daniel,  "Jennie  and  Sadie  will  be  a  great  help  to  you 
in  telling  you  whom  of  your  callers  you  must  cultivate 
and  whom  you  must  not." 

"But  aside  from  your  employees  and  their  wives  there 
would  be  only  your  family's  friends,  of  course?"  Margaret 
asked,  again  puzzled. 

"Well,  some  people  prominent  in  our  church,  but  not 
in  society,  and  a  few  others,  may  bother  us  some.  You 
need  not  worry  about  it;  Jennie  and  Sadie  will  separate 
the  sheep  from  the  goats  for  you,"  he  smiled. 

"You  have  told  me  so  little  of  your  people.  Your 
sisters  live  in  New  Munich?" 

"I  ought  to  have  mentioned  before  this,  dear,  that  my 
sisters  keep  house  for  me.  They  will  continue  to  live 
with  me." 

[112] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"Oh!"  Margaret's  heart  bounded  with  a  great  relief 
at  this  information,  though  even  to  her  own  secret  con- 
sciousness it  seemed  disloyal  to  rejoice  that  she  was  not 
going  to  be  thrown  alone  upon  the  society  of  Daniel 
Leitzel;  the  prospect  had  already  begun  to  seem  rather 
appalling. 

"No  use  in  our  setting  up  a  separate  establishment," 
continued  Daniel;  "it's  so  much  cheaper  for  us  all  to  live 
together,  my  sisters  being  such  excellent  managers." 

Margaret,  not  gathering  from  this  that  his  sisters  shared 
with  him  the  expense  of  the  "establishment,"  but  con- 
cluding, rather,  that  they  were  dependent  upon  him, 
hastened  to  assure  him  that  she  would  not  wish  him,  on 
her  account,  to  assume  the  support  of  two  households. 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,  Margaret,  I  shouldn't  know 
how  to  get  on  without  Jennie  and  Sadie,  they  understand 
me  and  all  my  little  habits  so  well,  and  they  do  take  such 
care  of  my  comforts,  which  is  a  great  thing  to  a  man  who 
constantly  uses  his  brain  so  strenuously  as  I  do." 

Again  Margaret  inwardly  congratulated  herself  that  it 
would  not  devolve  upon  her  to  take  care  of  his  comforts 
and  learn  all  his  "little  habits,"  which  occupation  appeared 
to  her  a  pitiable  waste  of  a  woman's  life — in  the  case  of  any 
but  a  great  man. 

"When  I  did  it  for  Uncle  Osmond,"  she  reflected,  "it 
seemed  worth  while  because  of  what  he  was  giving  to  the 
world  almost  up  to  the  day  of  his  death." 

"The  work  of  a  corporation  lawyer,"  she  asked  Daniel, 
"is  it  anything  more  than  a  money-making  job?" 

"Anything  more?"  repeated  Daniel,   shocked  at  the 

[113] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

suggestion  that  it  could  be  anything  more.     "Isn't  that 
enough?" 

"Dear  me,  no!  When  two  women  spend  their  lives 
keeping  a  man  fit  for  his  work,  they  surely  want  to  know 
that  his  work  is  worth  such  a  price;  that  it  is  benefiting 
society." 

"Well,  of  course,  any  money-making  'job,'  as  you 
call  it  (I  would  hardly  call  my  legal  work  a  'job')  must 
benefit  society;  if  I  make  money,  I  not  only  can  support 
a  family  but  can  give  to  public  charities,  and  to  the 
church." 

"There's  nothing  in  that,  Daniel;  I  have  studied  enough 
social  and  political  economy  to  know,  as  you,  too,  cer- 
tainly must  know,  that  society  has  outgrown  the  philan- 
thropy and  charity  idea;  has  learned  to  hate  philanthropy 
and  charity;  people  are  demanding  the  right  to  earn  their 
own  way  and  keep  their  self-respect." 

"I'm  afraid,  Margaret,"  said  Daniel  gravely,  "your 
irreligious  uncle  gave  you  some  rather  unladylike  ideas. 
However,"  he  smiled,  "my  Christian  influence  on  you,  as 
fond  of  me  as  you  are,  will  soon  make  you  forget  his  in- 
fidel teachings.  For  goodness'  sake,  dear,  don't  forget  your- 
self and  repeat  such  atheistic  thoughts  before  my  sisters 
or  indeed  to  any  one  in  New  Munich.  Our  best  society 
is  very  critical." 

It  flashed  upon  Margaret  to  wonder,  with  a  sudden 
sense  of  despair,  what  her  uncle  would  have  said  to  her 
marrying  Daniel  Leitzel. 

"  If  I  don't  do  it  quickly,  I  can't  hold  out ! "  she  miserably 
thought. 

[114] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

But  she  realized  that  she  confronted  a  worse  fate  in  the 
alternative  of  remaining  with  Hattie. 

"How  old  are  your  sisters?"  she  asked. 

"They  are  both  elderly  women,  though  as  vigorous  as 
they  ever  were." 

Margaret  told  herself  that  she  would  be  so  much  kinder 
to  them  than  Hattie  had  ever  been  to  her.  "They  shall 
never  feel  unwelcome  in  my  home,"  she  resolved. 

"Are  they  your  only  relatives  in  New  Munich?"  she 
inquired. 

"In  New  Munich,  yes.  But  Hiram  lives  in  Millerstown 
nearby." 

"Your  parents  are  not  living?" 

"My  mother — no,  my  parents  are  not  living." 

"You  seem  not  quite  sure,"  she  smiled. 

Daniel  coloured  uncomfortably.  The  thought  of  his 
Mennonite  step-mother  gave  him  his  first  humiliating 
sense  of  inferiority  to  a  Berkeley  of  Berkeley  Hill.  What 
a  shock  it  would  be  to  "a  perfect  lady"  like  Margaret  if 
she  ever  met  the  old  woman !  He  would  try  to  avert  such 
a  stab  to  his  self-respect. 

"I  suppose,"  he  thought  with  some  bitterness,  "I  can't 
get  out  of  telling  her  about  mother;  she's  bound  to  hear 
of  her  some  time,  and  even  perhaps  meet  her." 

"I  have  a  step-mother,"  he  said  testily. 

"She  lives  in  New  Munich?" 

"No,  fifteen  miles  out  in  the  country.  We  don't  see 
much  of  her." 

"I  don't  see  her  name  here,"  said  Margaret,  glancing 
down  the  list  he  had  given  her. 

[115] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"No;  it  won't  be  necessary  to  send  her  a  card." 

"You  are  not  friendly  with  her?  She  was  not  a  good 
step-mother  to  you?  " 

"Oh,  yes;  no  one  could  be  unfriendly  with  her — that  is, 
she's  an  inoffensive,  good-hearted  old  woman.  But — well, 
we  see  very  little  of  her;  she's  not  a  blood-relative,  you 
know." 

"But  surely,  if  you  are  not  at  daggers'  points  with  her, 
you  would  send  your  father's  widow  an  announcement  of 
your  wedding!" 

"But — we  don't  think  very  much  of  her,  Margaret; 
we're  not,  just  to  say,  intimate  with  her." 

"You  say,  though,  that  she  is  'inoffensive  and  good- 
hearted,'  and  she  was  your  father's  wife?"  repeated 
Margaret,  looking  mystified. 

"Oh,  well,"  Daniel  gave  in,  "I'll  add  her  name  if  you 
think  I — I  ought  to.  She'll  be  so  pleased;  she'll  tell  it  all 
over  the  township!  I  mean" — he  pulled  himself  up — 
"well,  you  see,  she's  old  and  no  use  to  any  one  and  I'm 
afraid  she's  going  to  be,  after  a  while,  something  of  a 
burden  to  us  all." 

Margaret  remained  silent,  as  Daniel  took  a  pencil  from 
his  vest-pocket  and  scribbled  at  the  end  of  his  wedding  list. 

"There,"  he  said,  handing  the  paper  back  to  her. 
"Anything  to  please  you,  my  dear!" 

"Daniel?" 

"Well,  dearest?" 

"I  don't  like  the  way  you  speak  of  that  old  lady." 

"But  haven't  I  consented  to  send  cards  to  her,  Mar- 
garet?" 

[116] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"Yes.  And  I'm  sure  that  a  man  who  loves  children  as 
you  do,  who  gives  money  to  charities  and  the  church,  as 
you  tell  me  you  do,  couldn't  be  thoughtless  of  the  aged. 
I  don't  want  to  believe  you  could." 

"No,  indeed!  I  gave  one  hundred  dollars  last  year  to 
our  U.  B.  Church  Home  for  Old  Ladies."  He  drew  out 
his  purse,  extracted  a  newspaper  clipping,  and  passed  it 
to  her,  "My  name  heads  the  list,  you  see." 

"Oh,  Daniel,  and  you  were  going  to  neglect  to  send  an 
announcement  of  your  wedding  to  the  'aged,  inoffensive, 
kind-hearted,  but  useless  and  burdensome'  widow  of  your 
father!" 

"But,  Margaret,"  he  protested,  his  self-esteem  wincing 
at  her  disapproval,  "if  ever  you  see  her,  you'll  not  blame 
me!  You'll  understand.  Anyway,  family  sentiment 
among  you  Southerners  is  so  much  stronger,  I've  always 
been  told,  than  with  us  in  the  North." 

"I'm  sure  it  must  be." 

"My  step-mother  is  too  poor,  too,  to  send  us  a  wedding 
present,"  he  added  as  a  mitigating  reason  for  his  "neglect." 

Margaret,  having  no  conception  of  his  penuriousness 
(he  seemed  so  lavishly  generous  to  her),  took  such  speeches 
as  this  for  a  childish  simplicity,  the  eccentricity  of  legal 
genius,  perhaps.  Had  she  known  that  he  actually  felt  it 
wasteful  to  invest  an  expensively  engraved  card  and  a 
stamp  where  there  would  be  no  return  of  any  kind,  she 
would  have  advised  him  to  consult  an  alienist. 

Little  did  she  and  Daniel  dream  that  the  sending  of  that 
wedding  announcement  to  old  Mrs.  Leitzel  of  Martz  Town- 
ship was  going  to  make  history  for  the  entire  Leitzel  family. 

[1171 


THE  marriage  of  Daniel  Leitzel  took  place  in  the 
fall,   and   during  all  the  following  winter  New 
Munich  kept  up  its  lively  interest  in  the  bride, 
and  discussed  freely  and  constantly  her  personality,  looks, 
manner,  clothes,  opinions,  and,  most  impressive  of  all, 
her  unique  style  of  speech  on  occasions;  it  also  speculated 
boldly  and  with  the  keenest  curiosity  as  to  how  she  "got 
on"  with  Danny  and  her  "in-laws." 

As  the  Weekly  Intelligencer  had  predicted,  many  "social 
events"  celebrated  the  marriage.  To  entertain  the  bride 
and  groom  came  to  be  such  a  social  distinction  that  people 
vied  with  each  other  in  the  extravagant  elaborateness  of 
their  parties;  and  not  to  have  met  Mrs.  Leitzel  proved 
one  to  be  socially  obscure. 

To  the  men  of  New  Munich  it  was  a  "seven  days' 
wonder"  that  a  woman  of  such  charm  and  distinction 
should  have  "tied  up"  with  a  man  like  Dan. 

"How  did  a  weasel  like  Dan  Leitzel  ever  put  it  over  a 
girl  like  that  ?  Why,  he's  at  least  twice  her  age ! " 

But  the  women,  noting  that  the  bride's  clothes  with  the 
exception  of  her  two  evening  gowns,  however  graceful  and 
becoming,  were  home-made,  and  that  though  the  lace  on 
some  of  them  was  real  and  rare,  it  was  very  old,  did  not 
wonder  so  much  at  the  marriage. 

[118] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"She  is  certainly  making  a  hit  with  New  Munich,"  was 
the  verdict  at  first.  "  Isn't  she  the  very  dearest  thing  that 
ever  happened?" 

Margaret's  amiable,  sympathetic  manner,  her  simplicity, 
her  occasional  drollery,  the  distinction  of  her  fine  breed- 
ing, fascinated  these  people  of  a  different  tradition  and 
fibre. 

"No  wonder  Danny  Leitzel  looks  like  another  man!" 
his  acquaintances  commented.  "Why,  he's  taking  on 
flesh!  He  looks  ten  years  younger!  Do  you  notice  how 
spryly  he  walks?  And  how  radiantly  he  beams  on  every- 
body, the  old  skinflint!  Yes,  he  certainly  had  his  usual 
luck  when  he  got  that  young  wife  of  his ! " 

It  was  another  cause  for  wonder  and  widespread  com- 
ment that  the  maiden  sisters,  too,  looked  brighter  and 
younger  since  the  advent  of  their  brother's  bride. 

"They're  awfully  proud  of  her  and  of  the  fuss  being 
made  over  her  and  Danny!  Who  would  have  dreamed 
that  Miss  Jennie  and  Miss  Sadie  could  get  on  peaceably 
with  their  brother's  wife,  living  in  the  same  house  with 
her!  It  seems  unbelievable." 

"Oh,  wait!  She's  a  new  thing  just  now,  but  wait!  We 
shall  presently  see  and  hear — what  we  shall  see  and  hear! 
If  they  get  on  peaceably,  I'll  warrant  it's  not  because  Miss 
Jennie  and  Miss  Sadie  are  angels.  It's  Mrs.  Danny  that's 
so  awfully  easy-going  they  can't  quarrel  with  her.  But  of 
course  it  can't  possibly  last.  If  she  is  easy-going,  she 
isn't  a  jelly-fish.  They're  bound  to  clash  after  a  while. 
You'll  see  what  you'll  see ! " 

"Even  the  bride  herself  looks   happy,"   one   maiden 

[119] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

pensively  remarked.  "I  shouldn't  think  she  would.  I 
couldn't  have  married  Dan  Leitzel." 

"You  don't  know  what  you  might  have  done  if  tempted,"" 
a  friend  of  the  maiden  pointedly  suggested. 

"But  she  seems  to  be  devoted  to  Danny.  She  really 
acts  so." 

"Oh,  that's  just  her  Southern  warmth  of  manner. 
Don't  take  that  seriously.  As  if  a  stunning  girl  like  that 
could  be  in  love  with  him ! " 

"But  I  heard  she  was  poor  and  dependent  and  that 
Danny's  devotion  and  goodness  to  her  made  her  just  adore 
him!  An  old  man's  darling,  you  know!" 

There  were  only  one  or  two  people  who,  more  observant 
than  communicative,  noted  that  Mrs.  Leitzel,  though 
lazily  good-humoured  and  apparantly  happy,  had  a 
strained  expression  in  her  large,  soft  eyes,  a  veiled,  elusive 
look  of  trouble,  almost  of  suffering. 

Meantime,  the  people  of  New  Munich  were  not  more 
astonished  than  were  Daniel's  sisters  themselves  at  the 
relation  which  they  found  themselves  sustaining  toward 
his  wife.  It  had  taken  only  a  few  days  of  association  with 
Margaret  to  disarm  them  of  their  stiffness,  suspicion,  and 
jealousy  of  their  brother's  devotion  to  her.  They  found 
her  so  surprisingly  willing  to  take  second  place  in  her 
husband's  house,  so  disinclined  to  usurp  any  of  the  pre- 
rogatives which  they  had  so  long  enjoyed  (and  which  they 
knew  most  people  would  think  should  now  be  hers)  that 
in  spite  of  many  things  about  her  which  they  could  not 
understand  or  approve,  they  presently  succumbed  to  the 
subtle  spell  of  her  magnetism  and  her  docility  and  became 

[120] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

almost  as  enthusiastic   about  her  as  was  Danny  him- 
self. 

Long  and  earnest  were  the  discussions  they  held  in  secret 
over  her. 

"  Her  clothes  are  so  plain,"  lamented  Sadie.  "  You  could 
hardly  call  'em  such  a  trussoo,  could  you?  All  she's  got 
is  just  her  travelling  suit  with  two  silk  waists,  two  house 
dresses,  one  afternoon  dress,  and  two  evening  dresses. 
And  her  underclothes  ain't  fancy  like  a  bride's.  When  I 
asked  her  to  show  me  her  wedding  underclothes,  she  said 
she  didn't  get  any  new,  she  hadn't  needed  any!  To  be 
sure,  what  she  has  got  is  awful  fine  linen  and  hand  em- 
broidered, but  it  ain't  made  a  bit  fancy  and  no  coloured 
ribbons  at.  All  plain  white,"  said  Sadie  in  a  tone  of  keen 
disappointment. 

"And  her  evening  dresses,"  said  Jennie;  "she  says  the 
lace  on  'em  she  'inherited.'  Putting  old  second-hand 
lace  on  your  wedding  outfit  yet!  I  told  her  I'd  anyhow 
think  she'd  buy  new  for  her  wedding  outfit.  And  she 
said,  'But  I  couldn't  afford  to  buy  lace  like  this.  My 
great-grandmother  wore  this  lace  on  a  ball  gown.' " 

"She  ain't  ashamed  to  say  right  out  she  can't  afford  this 
and  that,"  said  Sadie  wonderingly. 

"Well,  to  be  sure,  that's  just  to  us,  and  we're  her  folks 
now.  She'd  know  better  than  to  say  it  outside." 

"  Well,  I  guess  anyhow  then  I "  Sadie  fervently  hoped. 

"But  it  looks  as  if  she  didn't  have  much,  don't  it?" 

"I'm  afraid  it  does."     Sadie  shook  her  head. 

"What  I  want  to  know  is,  did  she  or  didn't  she  bring 
Danny  am/thing?"  Jennie  worried. 

[1211 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"It's  hard  to  say,"  sighed  Sadie. 

"I  don't  like  to  ask  her  right  out,  just  yet  anyhow. 
After  a  while  I  will  mebby,"  said  Jennie. 

"She's  wonderful  genteel,  the  most  genteel  lady  I  ever 
saw,"  remarked  Sadie.  "And  how  she  speaks  her  words 
so  pretty!  Buttah  for  butter;  and  hoase  for  house.  It 
sounds  grand,  don't  it?" 

"It's  awful  high-toned,"  Jennie  granted.  "I  wonder 
what  Hiram's  Lizzie  will  have  to  say  when  she  sees  her 
once.  Won't  Lizzie  look  common  anyhow,  alongside  of 
her?" 

"Well,  I  guess!" 

"Hiram  will  have  more  jealous  feelings  than  ever  when 
he  sees  what  a  genteel  lady  Danny  picked  out;  ain't?" 

"Yes,  anyhow!" 

"And  that  makes  something,  too,  being  high-toned  that 
way;  it  makes  near  as  much  as  money,"  said  Jennie 
thoughtfully. 

"Still,  I  don't  believe  Danny  would  have  married  her  if 
she  hadn't  ant/thing,"  Sadie  speculated. 

"Well,  I  guess  not,  too,  mebby.  I  hope  not.  It's  next 
Sabbath  we're  invited  to  Millerstown  to  spend  the  day  at 
Hiram's,  you  mind?"  she  told  Sadie;  "if  only  you  don't 
take  the  cold  or  have  the  headache,"  she  added,  insisting 
always  upon  regarding  Sadie  as  an  invalid  to  be  coddled. 

"You  know,  Jennie,  Danny  always  says  he  has  so 
ashamed  for  our  Hiram's  common  table  manners.  I 
guess  he  won't  like  it,  either,  before  Margaret  that  Hiram 
eats  so  common,  for  all  he's  a  minister." 

"Yes,  well,  but  supposing  she  met  Mom  by  chance, 
f  1221 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

what  would  she  think?  Danny  better  consider  of  that 
before  he  worries  over  our  Hiram." 

"Yes,  I  guess,  too,"  Sadie  agreed. 

Meantime,  Margaret,  during  these  first  months  after 
her  marriage,  was  living  through  a  succession  of  spiritual 
upheavals  and  epochs  which,  under  a  calm  and  even 
phlegmatic  exterior,  were  completely  hidden  from  those 
about  her. 

Her  earliest  impressions  in  her  new  and  strange  environ- 
ment at  the  Leitzels'  home  in  New  Munich  were  confused 
and  bewildering;  for  so  isolated  and  narrow  had  her  life 
hitherto  been,  that  vulgarity  in  any  form  had  never,  up  to 
this  time,  touched  or  come  nigh  her,  and  she  did  not  under- 
stand it,  did  not  know  how  to  meet  or  cope  with  it. 

But  the  second  stage  of  her  experience,  as  the  situation 
became  less  confused,  more  definite,  was,  in  spite  of  Daniel's 
devotion  to  her,  for  which  she  was  grateful,  a  transitory 
sense  of  humiliation,  of  mortification,  that  she  had  mar- 
ried into  a  family  that  was  "straight-out  common" — 
she,  a  Berkeley.  It  was  probably  the  first  time  in  her 
life  that  she  had  ever  given  a  thought  to  the  fact  that  she 
was  a  Berkeley.  But  since  to  a  Southerner  of  good 
family,  to  be  well-born  was  a  detail  of  inestimable  impor- 
tance, she  had  naturally  assumed  that  any  man  whom 
Walter  brought  into  his  home  and  presented  to  her  and 
Hattie  must  be  worthy  of  that  honour.  It  was  on  this 
assumption  that  so  many  of  Daniel's  peculiarities  had 
failed  to  mean  to  her  what  she  could  now  see  they  meant — 
sheer  commonness.  Why  had  Walter  taken  it  for  granted 
so  easily  that  because  a  man  was  a  successful  and  promi- 

[1231 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

nent  lawyer  he  was  a  gentleman?  Yes,  her  own  sister's 
husband  had  let  her  go  so  far  as  to  marry  into  a  family  of 
whom  he  knew  either  too  little  or  too  much ! 

"I  trusted  Walter  so  entirely,  I  didn't  even  think  of 
questioning  him  on  such  a  matter!"  she  reflected  with 
some  bitterness  upon  his  willingness  to  sacrifice  her  in 
order  to  preserve  the  peace  of  his  own  home. 

"There  are  two  kinds  of  lower  class  people,  common 
people  and  people  who  are  only  just  plain,"  she  philos- 
ophized. "If  Daniel's  family  were  just  plain,  I  could 
take  them  to  my  heart  and  be  glad  for  the  broadening 
experience  of  knowing  and  loving  them.  I  could  get  over 
my  prejudices  about  blood — I  recognize  that  they  are 
prejudices — and  I  wouldn't  even  mind  his  sisters'  pecu- 
liarities. But  they  are  not  just  plain.  They  are Oh, 

my  good  Lord!"  she  almost  moaned,  covering  her  face 
with  her  hands. 

However,  all  the  experiences  of  Margaret's  life  had 
taught  her,  through  very  severe  discipline,  to  accept  philo- 
sophically whatever  circumstances  fell  to  her  lot  and  to 
extract  from  alien  conditions  whatever  of  comfort  could 
possibly  be  found  in  them.  So,  the  third  stage  of  the 
strenuous  crisis  through  which  she  was  passing  was  more 
cheerful.  She  found  herself  so  interested  in  the  novelty 
of  the  life  and  characters  about  her  that  it  began  to  seem 
like  the  open  page  of  an  absorbing  story.  Indeed,  so 
interested  did  she  become,  that  for  a  time  she  forgot  to 
think  of  it  all  in  its  relation  to  her  own  life.  That  phase 
was  destined  to  be  forced  upon  her  later  with  added 
poignancy.  But  for  the  time  being,  even  the  fearfully 

[124] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

vulgar  taste  of  Daniel's  house  and  its  furnishings,  the  like 
of  which  she  had  never  beheld,  and  Sadie's  youthful 
toilettes — her  empire  gowns,  middie  blouses  with  Windsor 
ties,  and  hats  with  little  velvet  streamers  down  the  back 
— served  only  to  greatly  entertain  her. 

"Sadie  was  always  such  a  fancy  dresser  that  way," 
Jennie  would  explain  with  pride.  "  Yes,  she's  a  girl  that's 
wonderful  for  dress." 

Jennie's  invariable  reference  to  her  younger  sister  as 
"a  girl"  seemed  intended  to  carry  out  the  idea  of  Sadie's 
sixteen-year-old  style  of  dress. 

"I  suppose  one  couldn't  make  Sadie  understand," 
thought  Margaret,  "that  she'd  be  better  dressed  with  one 
frock  of  good  material,  simply  and  suitably  made,  than 
with  all  that  huge  closet  full  of  cheap  trash." 

But  she  was  wise  enough  not  to  attempt  reforms,  or 
even  suggestions,  in  any  direction,  in  her  new  home. 

In  view  of  the  fact  that  Daniel's  sisters  lived  here 
dependent  upon  him,  as  Margaret  supposed,  Sadie's  abun- 
dant finery  seemed  to  her  rather  extravagant.  '  *He's  a  very 
indulgent  brother,"  she  decided. 

Walter's  wedding  gift  to  her  had  been  a  check  for  fifty 
dollars,  which  she  was  sure  he  must  have  borrowed  on  his 
life  insurance.  She  was  at  present  using  this  for  pocket 
money.  It  was  characteristic  of  her  not  to  give  one 
anxious  thought  to  the  time  when  it  would  all  be  spent. 
She  was  scarcely  aware  of  the  fact  that  the  subject  of 
money  had  never  yet  come  up  between  her  and  Daniel, 
and  she  would  have  been  amazed  indeed  to  know  how 
often  her  husband  tried  in  vain  to  broach  the  topic  which 

[1251 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

was  to  him  of  such  paramount  importance,  and  to  her  so 
negligible  a  detail  in  a  life  full  of  interests  that  had  nothing 
to  do  with  money. 

The  attitude  of  Daniel's  sisters  toward  him  seemed  to 
Margaret  not  by  any  means  the  least  of  the  curiosities  of 
her  new  life:  their  obsequious  admiration  of  him,  their 
abject  obedience  to  every  least  wish  of  his,  their  minute 
attention  to  his  physical  comforts  and  to  the  fussy  details 
of  his  daily  routine,  from  his  morning  bath  up  to  his  glass 
of  hot  milk  at  bedtime. 

"And  they've  done  this  all  his  life!  No  wonder  he's 
a " 

But  she  checked,  even  to  her  own  consciousness,  any 
admission  of  what  she  really  thought  he  was. 

Daniel,  meantime,  discovering  through  the  many  social 
affairs  to  which  he  took  his  bride  that  she  was  so  greatly 
admired  by  the  men  of  his  world  as  to  make  them  look 
upon  him  with  envy  (and  to  be  looked  upon  with  envy 
was  sweet  to  his  soul),  opened  up  his  heart  and  his  purse 
to  the  extent  of  suggesting  to  his  wife  and  his  sisters  that 
they  celebrate  his  marriage  and  return  the  lavish  hospi- 
tality that  had  been  extended  to  them  in  New  Munich 
by  giving  a  large  reception. 

It  was  one  Saturday  afternoon  as  they  all  sat  together 
in  the  "sitting-room"  after  their  midday  dinner,  Daniel's 
offices  being  closed  on  Saturday  afternoon  to  give  his  large 
staff  of  clerks  a  hah*  holiday.  Jennie  had  pushed  Daniel's 
own  easy-chair  to  the  open  fire  for  him,  and  he  was  loung- 
ing in  it  luxuriously. 

"And  I'm  going  to  do  it  up  in  style.  I'll  have  a  caterer 
[1261 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

from  Philadelphia,"  he  announced,  to  the  astonishment 
of  his  sisters. 

"Oh,  Danny,  a  caterer  yet!"  breathed  Sadie,  awestruck. 

"It'll  come  awful  high,  Danny!"  Jennie  warned  him. 

"I  know  it  will.  I  know  that.  But  all  the  same  I'm 
going  to  do  it!"  responded  Daniel  heroically. 

"Well,"  said  Jennie,  "I  hope  you'll  tell  the  caterer, 
Danny,  not  to  give  us  one  of  these  lap-suppers  the  kind 
they  had  at  Mrs.  Congressman  Ocksreider's,  you  mind. 
I  like  to  sit  up  to  a  table  when  I  eat.  Mrs.  Ocksreider's 
so  stout,  she  hasn't  got  a  lap,  and  it  looked  awful  incon- 
venient to  her.  Oh,  it  was  swell  enough,  to  be  sure,  but 
you  didn't  get  very  full.  We  didn't  overload  our  stomachs, 
I  can  tell  you." 

"We'll  have  small  tables,  then,"  Daniel  agreed. 

"Sadie,"  Jennie  suddenly  ordered  her  sister  solicitously, 
"sit  out  of  the  window  draft  or  you'll  get  the  cold  in  your 
head  yet." 

Sadie  obediently  pulled  her  chair  away  from  the  window. 

"I'm  thirsty,"  Daniel  announced;  and  at  the  word 
Jennie  rose. 

"I'll  fetch  you  a  drink,  Danny." 

In  a  moment  she  returned  and  stood  by  her  brother's 
chair  while  he  leisurely  sipped  the  water  she  had  brought 
him.  This  spectacle,  a  man's  remaining  seated  while  a 
woman  stood,  to  which  Margaret  was  becoming  accus- 
tomed, had  at  first  seemed  to  her  quite  awful. 

"And  you,  Margaret,"  Daniel  said  as  he  sipped  his 
water,  "  must  have  a  new  dress — gown,  as  you  call  it — for 
the  party.  You  have  worn  those  same  two  evening 

[127] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

dresses  of  yours  to  about  enough  parties,  I  guess.  Let 
Sadie  help  you  choose  a  new  one.  And  get  something 
elegant  and  showy.  I  won't  mind  the  cost.  Sadie, 
you'll  know  what  she  ought  to  get;  her  own  taste  is  too 
plain.  I  want  her  to  do  me  credit!"  he  grinned,  returning 
the  empty  glass  to  Jennie,  who  took  it  away. 

"I'll  help  you  pick  out  just  the  right  thing,"  responded 
Sadie,  eager  for  the  orgy  of  planning  a  new  evening 
costume,  while  Margaret,  as  she  glanced  at  Sadie's  ill- 
fitting,  gay  plaid  blouse  of  cheap  silk,  made  by  a  cheap 
seamstress,  and  at  the  coquettish  patch  of  black  court 
plaster  off  her  left  eye,  concealed  her  amusement  at  her 
vision  of  herself  in  a  garb  of  her  sister-in-law's  devising. 

"Daniel,"  she  suddenly  said,  wishing  to  divert  the  talk 
from  clothes, and  curious,  also,  to  "try  out"  her  husband 
on  a  certain  point,  "I'm  thirsty." 

Daniel,  not  yet  very  far  recovered  from  the  attentive 
lover  stage,  jumped  up  at  once  to  get  her  a  drink,  quite 
as  he  would  have  done  before  their  marriage,  and  Margaret 
smiled  as  she  saw  Jennie  and  Sadie  look  shocked  at  what 
she  knew  they  felt  to  be  her  very  unwifely  attitude. 

"My  dears,"  she  told  them  while  Daniel  was  gone, 
"I've  got  to  try  to  keep  him  in  training,  you  spoil  him  so 
dreadfully." 

"How  high  dare  she  go,  Danny,  for  her  new  dress?" 
Sadie  inquired  when  her  brother  returned  with  the  water. 

"Well,  what  do  you  pay  for  a  party  dress?" 

"My  new  white  silk  cost  me  sixteen-fifty." 

"That's  a  showy,  handsome  dress  all  right.  You  may 
spend  twenty  dollars,  Margaret,"  he  said  magnanimously. 

[128] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"We'll  go  downtown  right  after  breakfast  on  Monday 
morning,  Margaret,"  said  Sadie,  "and  pick  out  the  goods 
and  take  it  to  Mrs.  Snyder,  my  dressmaker.  She  charges 
five  dollars  to  make  a  dress,  but  she  gives  you  your  money's 
worth;  she  makes  them  so  nice  and  fancy.  Your  dresses 
ain't  fussed  up  enough,  Margaret." 

Margaret  wondered  what  would  be  the  effect  upon  them 
if  she  told  them  that  just  the  mere  making  of  one  of  her 
"plain"  gowns,  by  a  good  dressmaker,  had  cost  nearly 
twice  what  Daniel  "allowed"  her  for  the  goods,  "find- 
ings," and  making  of  a  new  one.  But  she  decided  to  spare 
them  the  shock. 

"Simple  clothes  suit  me  better,"  she  said.  "Unless  I 
go  to  a  high-priced  dressmaker,  I  can  do  much  better  mak- 
ing my  gowns  myself." 

"But  I  don't  begrudge  the  high  price,  Margaret," 
urged  Daniel;  "you  let  Sadie's  Mrs.  Snyder  make  you  a 
dress." 

"Yes,"  said  Jennie  with  decision,  "you  can't  appear 
among  our  friends  any  more,  Margaret,  in  such  plain- 
looking  dresses  as  you've  been  wearing.  It  would  really 
give  me  a  shamed  face  if  you  weren't  so — well,  even  in 
plain  clothes,  you're  awful  aristocratic  looking,  and  you'll 
look  just  grand  in  the  dress  Sadie's  Mrs.  Snyder  will  make 
you  for  five  dollars." 

Though  Margaret  was  perfectly  willing  to  take  a  sub- 
ordinate place  in  her  husband's  household,  she  no  more 
dreamed  of  his  sisters  interfering  in  her  personal  affairs 
than  she  thought  of  interfering  with  theirs,  so  in  spite  of 
Jennie's  authoritative  tone,  she  answered  pleasantly: 

[129] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"Too  bad  you  don't  like  my  Mennonite  taste,  for  you 
know,  I'd  love  to  adopt  the  'plain'  garb  of  these  Mennonite 
women  and  girls  one  sees  on  the  streets  on  market  days. 
What  could  be  more  quaint  and  fetching  than  their  spot- 
less white  caps  on  their  glossy  hair?  Ah,  I  think  they're 
a  sly  lot,  these  Mennonite  girls.  Don't  tell  me  they  don't 
know  how  bewitching  they  look  in  their  unworldly  garb 
intended  to  put  down  woman's  natural  vanity!  So  I 
won't  get  a  new  gown  just  now." 

"Why  not,  when  Danny  offers  you  the  money?"  asked 
Sadie,  astonished,  while  Jennie  frowned  disapprovingly. 

"Here,"  said  Daniel,  taking  a  bank  book  and  a  fountain 
pen  from  his  pocket,  and  rapidly  making  out  a  check, 
"you  take  this,  Margaret,  and  let  Sadie's  Mrs.  Snyder 
make  you  a  nice  party  dress." 

Margaret  laughed  a  little  as  she  took  the  check,  feeling 
it  useless  to  explain  to  them  how  impossible  it  would  be  to 
buy  with  twenty  dollars,  even  at  a  bargain  sale,  anything 
so  beautiful  as  her  two  gowns  made  by  a  skilled  and 
artistic  designer  and  trimmed  with  her  great-grandmother's 
Brussels  rose  point. 

Daniel  looked  chagrined  and  his  sisters  rather  indig- 
nantly surprised  that  she  did  not  thank  him  for  the  money. 
He  thought  he  was  being  tremendously  generous.  But 
Margaret,  inasmuch  as  they  had  been  married  two  months 
and  this  was  the  first  money  he  had  offered  her,  received 
it  as  a  matter  of  course;  her  husband  had,  at  the  altar, 
endowed  her  with  his  "worldly  goods"  and  what  was  his 
was  hers;  that  was  her  quite  simple  view  of  their  financial 
relation. 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"I  don't  want  to  spend  this  on  a  gown,  Daniel,"  she 
said  to  the  consternation  of  her  hearers,  as  she  tucked  it 
into  the  bosom  of  her  blouse,  "for  I  don't  need  any;  the 
ones  I  have  are  really  all  right,  my  dear;  far  better  than 
anything  I've  seen  on  any  woman  in  New  Munich.' 

"But  I  gave  it  to  you  for  a  frock!"  Daniel  exclaimed, 
his  eyes  bulging.  "I  want  you  to  have  a  fancy,  dressy 
frock  for  our  reception." 

"My  dear,"  Margaret  patted  his  bald  head,  "you  know 
a  lot  more  about  law  than  about  a  woman's  frocks.  You 
leave  that  to  me." 

Before  he  could  reply,  the  one  maid  of  the  household 
entered  the  room,  and  presented  a  card-plate  to  Jennie. 

"More  callers — what  a  pile!"  said  Jennie  as  she  took 
ten  cards  from  the  plate. 

"Yes,  and  it's  only  one  lady  in  the  parlour  settin'!" 
exclaimed  the  Pennsylvania  Dutch  maid.  "It  wonders 
me  that  she  gives  me  so  many  tickets!" 

"Well,  would  you  look,  Danny!  If  it  ain't  Miss  Hamil- 
ton!" exclaimed  Jennie  with  a  contemptuous  shrug. 
"Ain't  she  got  nerve!" 

"What!  Well,  well!  Tut,  tut,  tut!— my  stenographer 
calling  on  my  wife !  Yi,  yi !  Because  she  and  her  parents 
sent  us  a  little  bit  of  a  vase  for  a  wedding  gift,  she  has  the 
presumption  to  think  she  can  make  your  acquaintance,  my 
dear!" 

"That  exquisite  little  Venetian  glass  vase!"  said  Mar- 
garet eagerly.  "  It's  one  of  the  loveliest  gifts  we  received." 

"It  looks  as  if  it  cost  fifty  cents,"  commented  Jennie. 
"And  they're  not  just  to  say  poor  either;  her  father  is  the 

[131] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

high  school  principal  and  her  mother's  the  Episcopal 
Church  organist." 

"But  why  ten  cards,"  asked  Daniel,  "if  she  came  by 
herself?" 

"Her  father's  and  mother's  cards  as  well  as  her  own; 
and  for  all  of  us,"  explained  Margaret  as  she  glanced  over 
them. 

"And  is  that  the  proper  way  to  do?"  asked  Daniel,  im- 
pressed. 

"It  is  in  South  Carolina;  I  can't  answer  for  New 
Munich." 

"Her  puttin'  on  airs  like  that!"  wondered  Sadie,  "when 
they  ain't  in  society." 

Margaret  rose  to  go  to  the  parlour.  "Are  you  coming?  " 
she  asked  of  Jennie  and  Sadie. 

"We  are  not  acquainted  with  our  Danny's  hired  clerk," 
said  Jennie  primly,  "and  don't  wish  to  be.  I'll  call  the 
hired  girl  back  and  tell  her  to  excuse  you,  Margaret,  and 
us,  too." 

"No,  I  want  to  meet  Miss  Hamilton.  I've  been  anxious 
to  make  the  acquaintance  of  the  giver  of  that  rare  little 
vase;  she  must  be  a  person  of  taste.  Shall  I,  then,  excuse 
you?"  she  asked  the  other  two  women,  moving  a  step 
toward  the  door.  But  Daniel  took  her  hand  to  detain 
her.  "Have  yourself  excused;  I'd  rather  you  did;  it's  not 
well  to  mix  business  and  society.  It  was  bold  of  Miss 
Hamilton  to  come  here,  and  we  must  not  encourage  her 
to  come  again." 

Strangely  enough,  this  sort  of  a  contingency  had  not 
arisen  before,  for  the  simple  reason  that  on  every  occasion, 

[  132] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

hitherto,  when  people  had  called  whom  Jennie  and  Sadie 
considered  undesirable  acquaintances  for  her,  Margaret 
had  happened  to  be  out.  They  had  either  just  thrown 
away  the  cards  of  such  visitors,  or  had  explained  to  Mar- 
garet that  she  must  not  return  their  visits.  Margaret 
had  not  discussed  the  matter  with  them,  but  had  kept 
the  addresses  of  every  visitor  of  whom  she  was  informed, 
intending,  of  course,  to  call  upon  them  all  as  soon  as  New 
Munich  "society"  would  cease  from  its  siege  of  entertaining 
her. 

"But,  Daniel,"  she  patiently  answered  him,  "I'm  quite 
serious  in  telling  you  that  a  person  who  could  select  such 
a  thing  of  beauty  as  that  Venetian  vase,  I'm  sure  I  shall 
find  much  more  interesting  than — than  some  of  the  people 
I've  been  meeting,  kind  and  hospitable  though  they've 
been." 

"But  it's  very  bad  policy  to  encourage  familiarity  in 
subordinates.  She  works  for  me,  Margaret." 

"Don't  you  see,  Daniel,  that's  why  it  behooves  me 
not  to  be  excused  to  her?"  she  smiled,  withdrawing  her 
hand,  patting  his  cheek,  and  sailing  out  of  the  room. 

"But,  Margaret!"  he  called  after  her,  only  to  hear  her 
voice  in  the  room  beyond  greeting,  with  her  Southern 
cordiality,  his  hired  secretary. 

Daniel  looked  the  annoyance  and  astonishment  he  felt. 
If  she  would  see  Miss  Hamilton,  against  his  expressed 
wish,  she  needn't  treat  her  like  an  equal — actually  gush 
over  her.  Why !  hear  the  two  of  them  laughing  and  chat- 
tering over  there  in  the  parlour!  She  might  at  least  be 
reserved  and  on  her  dignity  with  people  beneath  her. 

[133] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"For  goodness'  sake,  tell  your  wife,  Danny,"  spoke  in 
Jennie,  voicing  his  own  thought,  "  not  to  make  herself  so 
friendly  and  common  to  everybody.  Your  wife  don't 
have  to!  She  has  the  right  to  be  a  little  proud  with  people. 
I  tell  her,  still,  when  callers  come,  'To  this  one  you  can 
be  as  common  as  you  want;  but  to  this  one,  not  so  com- 
mon.' But  she  don't  seem  to  understand;  leastways, 
she  don't  listen  to  me;  she's  the  same  to  everybody, 
whether  or  no.  Or  else  she's  just  as  likely  as  not  to  make 
herself  common  with  a  person  like  this  Miss  Hamilton 
and  be  awful  quiet  and  indifferent-like  with  Mrs.  Con- 
gressman Ocksreider  and  her  daughter,  or  Judge  Miller's 
family!  You  better  talk  to  her  and  tell  her  what's  what." 

"It's  funny,"  said  Daniel,  puzzled,  "that  she  wouldn't 
know  that  much  without  being  told." 

"Yes,  I  thinks  then!"  said  Jennie,  "and  her  as  tony  a 
person  as  what  she  seems  to  be." 

"Yes,  anyhow!"  corroborated  Sadie. 

"Her  being  so  friendly  with  everybody,"  continued 
Jennie,  "is  likely  to  make  trouble  when  we  come  to  send 
out  invitations  for  your  grand  party.  To  be  sure,  the 
ones  she  made  herself  so  common  with  will  look  to  be 
invited;  ain't?" 

"But  I  want  the  party  to  be  very  exclusive,  mind!" 
warned  Daniel. 

"To  be  sure  you  do.  Trust  me  to  see  to  that,"  prom- 
ised Jennie. 

"  Will  you  hear  those  two  in  there  laughing  together  like 
two  school-girls !"  wondered  Sadie.  "My  goodness!  And 
Miss  Hamilton  working  for  you  for  eight  dollars  a  week ' " 

[1341 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"I've  had  to  raise  her  to  ten,"  said  Danny  ruefully. 
"A  lawyer  in  Lancaster  offered  her  fifteen,  and  I  couldn't 
let  her  go,  she's  too  useful;  so  much  better  educated  than 
the  general  run  of  stenographers.  If  she  didn't  prefer  to 
live  in  New  Munich  with  her  parents,  I'd  have  to  compete 
with  big  city  prices  to  keep  her." 

"Is  she  that  smart,  Danny?"  Jennie  asked,  a  touch  of 
respect  in  her  tone,  her  estimate  of  Miss  Hamilton  rising 
just  two  dollars'  worth.  "They  say,  too,  that  her  father's 
such  a  smart  high  school  teacher.  Yes,  they  say  the  school 
board  had  to  raise  his  salary,  too,  to  keep  him." 

"It's  very  bad,"  said  Daniel  thoughtfully,  "to  have 
people  who  work  for  you  know  how  valuable  they  are  to 
you.  Miss  Hamilton  knows  she's  worth  money  to  me 
and  so  she  gives  herself  airs — acts  sometimes  as  though 
she  hired  me  at  ten  dollars  a  week! — and  then  has  the 
presumption  to  come  here  and  call  on  my  wife!  I'd  fire 
her  if  I  could  get  any  one  half  as  good.  But  she  knows 
she's  got  the  whip-handle.  It's  much  better,  much 
better,  for  an  employee  to  feel  uncertain  of  his  or  her 
place.  By  the  way,"  he  added,  drawing  a  purse  from  his 
pocket  and  taking  a  dollar  from  it,  "you  know  we're  all 
to  go  to  Millerstown  to  have  dinner  at  Hiram's  to-morrow, 
so  you'd  better  go  out  this  afternoon,  girls,  and  buy  some 
presents  for  the  four  children.  Here's  a  dollar — that's 
from  Margaret  and  me;  and  if  you  each  give  fifty  cents, 
that  will  make  two  dollars:  enough  to  buy  a  nice  little 
present  for  each  one  of  them  from  all  of  us." 

"All  right,  Danny,"  responded  Jennie,  taking  the  dollar. 
"I  can  get  red  booties  for  the  baby,  a  hair  ribbon  for 

f  1351 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

Naomi,  a  game  for  Zwingli,  and  a  story  book  for  Christian. 
Won't  they  be  pleased?  " 

"And  now,"  said  Daniel,  taking  out  his  watch,  "I've 
got  just  an  hour  to  spare — let  us  make  out  the  list  of  names 
for  our  party;  for  when  Miss  Hamilton  goes,  I'm  going 
to  'phone  for  an  automobile  and  take  Margaret  out  for  a 
little  ride,  and  talk  to  her  about  some  things." 


[136 


XI 


MARGARET'S  instinct  for  self-preservation,  being 
rapidly  educated  along  new  lines  since  her  mar- 
riage, closed  her  lips  in  the  presence  of  Jennie 
and  Sadie  upon  the  great  delight  she  found  in  her  new  ac- 
quaintance, her  husband's  secretary;  for  though  the  stand- 
ards of  value  which  the  Leitzels  held  as  to  most  things  in 
life  had  at  first  seemed  to  her  incomprehensible,  she  was 
of  late  beginning  to  have  a  glimmering  understanding  of 
them.  So,  upon  returning  to  the  sitting-room  after  Miss 
Hamilton's  call,  she  repressed  any  expression  of  her  hap- 
piness, and  not  until  she  and  Daniel  were  alone  in  the 
automobile  which  he  had  hired  this  afternoon  for  her 
pleasure,  and  incidentally  for  his  own,  did  she  speak  of  it. 
She  had  not  yet  learned  the  necessity  of  hiding  from  him, 
also,  almost  everything  that  she  felt  and  thought. 

"This  is  a  red  letter  day  for  me,  Daniel.  I've  found  a 
friend!  I've  never  had  an  intimate  girl  friend — oh!  but 
I've  yearned  for  one!  Of  all  the  many  people  I've  met 
since  I  came  here,  there  hasn't  been  one  except  that  Miss 
Mary  Aucker,  who  has  since  gone  to  Boston  for  the  winter, 
whose  society  I'd  prefer  to  that  of  a  book  or  solitude.  I'm 
not  naturally  a  very  good  'mixer,'  I'm  afraid,  but  in  ten 
minutes  Miss  Hamilton  and  I — well,  we  simply  found 
each  other,  deep  down  where  we  both  live!  It's  such  a 

[137] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

novel  and  wonderful  experience  to  me!"  she  softly  ex- 
claimed, her  eyes  shining.  "It's  going  to  give  me  the 
greatest  happiness  I've  ever  known!" 

"The  greatest  happiness  you've  ever  known!  Why, 
Margaret 

"I  mean  that  I've  ever  known  with  a  woman,"  she  said 
soothingly. 

"But,  my  dear!"  he  exclaimed,  "what  can  you  be  think- 
ing of?  You  can't  make  a  friend  of  my  secretary  I" 

"If  she  is  a  lady?" 

"  But  she  isn't.  They  don't  go  anywhere,  these  Hamil- 
tons!" 

"They  are  a  cultured  New  England  family,  Daniel,  and 
if  they  don't  go  into  society  here,  it  is  probably  because 
they  don't  want  to.  I'm  sure  I  can't  imagine  why  they 
should  want  to.  I  don't  mean,  dear,"  she  quickly  added, 
not  at  all  sincerely,  "to  cast  any  reflection  upon  your  New 
Munich  society;  I'm  speaking  of  society  in  general.  It 
is  rather  unsatisfactory,  isn't  it?  I  wouldn't  give  up  the 
friendship  I'm  going  to  have  with  Miss  Hamilton  for  all 
the  rest  of  New  Munich  society,  I  assure  you." 

"  But  you  must  give  it  up !  Why,  my  dear,  the  Hamil- 
tons  are  renters  !  " 

"'Renters?'" 

"Yes,  renters!" 

"What  are  'renters?'" 

"You  know  what  I  mean — they  don't  own  the  house 
they  live  in,  they  rent  it." 

"Oh!"  Margaret  fell  back  laughing  against  the  seat  of 
the  car.  "Of  course  if  I  had  known  that,  Daniel,  I 

[1381 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

shouldn't  have  found  Miss  Hamilton  congenial,  sym- 
pathetic, and  companionable.  Oh,  Daniel!"  she  gasped 
with  laughing. 

But  Daniel's  sense  of  humour  was  not  developed. 

"You  must  be  on  your  guard  more,  my  dear,"  he  gravely 
warned  her,  "or  you  will  be  getting  yourself  involved  most 
uncomfortably  with  troublesome  people.  Do  let  Jennie 
and  Sadie  be  your  guides  as  to  whom  you  should  cultivate 
here  and  whom  keep  at  a  proper  distance." 

"Jennie  and  Sadie  be  my — select  my  friends  for  me?" 

"Instruct  you  as  to  those  among  whom  you  may  select 
for  yourself,"  he  amended  it.  "They  know  New  Munich 
and  you  don't." 

"And  they,"  thought  Margaret  wonderingly,  "think 
themselves  'above'  a  cultured,  sophisticated,  well-bred  girl 
like  Miss  Hamilton — they!" 

"But,  Daniel,"  she  asked,  genuinely  puzzled,  "that 
nice  little  woman  that  called  yesterday,  that  I  liked  so 
much,  said  her  husband  was  a  grocer.  I  confess  it  rather 
shocked  me.  But  you  all  seemed  to  approve  of  her.  In 
New  Munich  is  a  grocer  better  than  a  teacher?" 

"He's  a  wholesale  grocer,  which  makes  a  vast  difference, 
of  course." 

"Does  it?  And  was  the  dry  goods  person  who  was  with 
her  also  wholesale?" 

"Mrs.  Frantz?  No,  but  she's  rich,  very  rich.  They 
own  their  handsome  home  at  the  head  of  our  block.  Lis- 
ten, Margaret!  While  you  were  in  the  parlour  with 
Miss  Hamilton,  Jennie  and  Sadie  helped  me  make  up 
the  list  for  our  party,  and  even  I  myself  could  not  have 

[139] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

discriminated  more  astutely  than  they  did  (Jennie  es- 
pecially) as  to  whom  we  ought  to  invite  and  whom  we  ought 
not.  On  Monday  I'll  have  one  of  my  office  clerks  ad- 
dress the  envelopes  for  the  invitations  on  a  typewriter." 

"Oh,  my  God,  Daniel!  You  can't  send  typewritten 
invitations!" 

"For  goodness'  sake,  Margaret,  cut  out  swearing!  I'd 
be  horribly  mortified  if  any  one  heard  you!" 

Margaret  was  silent. 

Daniel  turned  to  glance  at  her  uneasily,  fearing  he  had 
offended  her,  but  she  was  red  with  suppressed  laughter 
and  as  she  met  his  eye  it  broke  forth  in  a  little  squeal. 

"Oh,  Daniel,"  she  sighed,  "swearing  isn't  as  bad  as 
slang,  dear.  I'd  much  rather  hear  you  say  'Damn  it' 
than  'cut  it  out.' " 

She  looked  so  pretty  in  her  sable  furs,  another  inheritance 
from  an  ancestor,  that,  the  automobile  being  covered, 
he  seized  her  face  in  his  two  hands  and  held  his  lips  to 
hers  for  a  long  minute. 

"Daniel,"  she  said  when  he  at  last  released  her,  "remind 
me  to  look  over  the  list  before  you  send  the  invitations. 
I  may  want  to  add  some  names." 

"I  don't  think  you  will,  dear.  We  drew  up  the  list 
very  carefully." 

"I'll  glance  over  it." 

"But,  Margaret,"  he  firmly  insisted,  "the  list  is  com- 
plete as  it  stands.  You  can't  add  any  name  to  it  that 
would  not  be  objectionable  to  my  sisters  and  me." 

"I  understand  that  the  party  is  to  be  a  large  general 
affair,  not  small  and  exclusive?  In  that  case,  you  know, 

[1401 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

we  shall  have  to  invite  every  one  who  has  called  and  sent 
us  gifts." 

"Impossible!  Why,  our  butcher  sent  us  a  gilt-framed 
Snow-Scene!  and  Sadie's  dressmaker  a  souvenir  spoon!" 

"Then  at  least  we  must  invite  every  one  who  has  called 
on  me." 

"By  no  means.  Wait  until  you  have  lived  here  long 
enough  to  have  gotten  your  bearings  and  you'll  see  how 
right  Jennie  and  Sadie  and  I  are  in  drawing  the  line  so 
carefully." 

Margaret  wisely  desisted  from  further  discussion  of  the 
matter,  though  she  felt  troubled  by  her  conviction  that 
she  would  certainly  not  find  on  that  list  the  names  of  the 
few  women  of  the  town  who  had  really  interested  her  and 
who  were  probably  "renters"  or  self-supporting  or  some- 
thing else  which,  by  the  Leitzel  standard,  would  class 
them  with  "dogs  and  sorcerers."  But  it  was  she  and 
Daniel  who  were  giving  the  party,  and  even  though  Jennie 
and  Sadie  did  keep  house  for  them,  she  was  of  course  the 
nominal  mistress  of  her  husband's  home  and  responsible 
for  the  courtesy  or  discourtesy  extended  to  their  acquaint- 
ances; and  she  did  not  like  the  idea  of  being  made  to 
appear  a  petty  snob  in  the  eyes  of  the  few  people  of  New 
Munich  for  whose  opinion  of  her  she  cared.  But  what 
could  she  do  about  it? 

"The  people  they  seem  to  approve  of  have  been  the  most 
vulgar  who  have  called  on  me,"  she  reflected.  "And  the 
few  persons  of  breeding  and  education  I've  met  here  they 
have  flouted.  Yet  I  recognize  the  delicacy  of  their  posi- 
tion— Jennie's  and  Sadie's — living  here  in  their  brother's 

[1411 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

house  and  dependent  upon  him.  I  don't  want  to  assert 
myself  in  a  way  to  make  them  feel  their  dependence. 
What  caw  I  do?" 

"Another  thing,  Margaret,"  said  Daniel  in  a  tone  of 
authority,  "  I  want  to  ask  you  not  to  make  yourself  com- 
mon with  people  beneath  you." 

"Make  myself  'common?" 

"Why,  you  are  as  common  with  my  secretary  as  you 
are  with  Mrs.  Ocksreider  or  Mrs.  and  Miss  Miller!" 

"I'm 'common?'" 

"Don't  you  think  you  are?" 

"Well,  in  Charleston  we  weren't  considered  just  to  say 
common  people,  Daniel,  though  perhaps  we  were  over- 
estimated." 

"  Good  heavens,  Margaret,  I  don't  mean  that  you  your- 
self are  common;  I  certainly  wouldn't  have  married  you 
if  I  had  thought  that.  I  mean  you  make  yourself — well, 
too  democratic.  That's  what  I  mean,  too  democratic." 

"The  prerogative  of  the  well-born,  Daniel,  who  don't 
feel  the  necessity  for  snobbishness.  Have  you  fixed  the 
date  for  the  party?  " 

"Yes,  the  twenty-second;  three  weeks  from  yesterday. 
I'll  have  the  house  decorated  by  a  Lancaster  florist  and 
I'll  have  a  caterer  from  Philadelphia."  He  repeated  with 
relish  his  astonishing  intention. 

"But,  Daniel,  are  you  sure  we  can  afford  all  that?" 

He  laughed  exultantly.  "Well,  my  dear,  I've  never 
given  a  large  party  and  I'm  going  to  impress  the  town! 
It  will  be  the  swellest  thing  that  was  ever  given  here! 
Why  shouldn't  it  be?  I  can  afford  it — that  is,"  he  pulled 

[  142] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

himself  up,  "I  can  afford  it  once  in  a  while,  and,"  he  added 
with  feeling,  "I'm  celebrating  the  happiest  event  of  my 
whole  life.  You're  worth  all  that  it  will  cost,  Margaret!" 

"Thanks!" 

"You're  welcome,  my  dear." 

"We  must  invite  your  step-mother  to  the  party,  Daniel." 

A  slight  start  expressed  Daniel's  disturbed  surprise  at 
this  unexpected  suggestion. 

"She's  too  old  and  too — well,  too  unworldly." 

He  winced  from  the  discovery  that  Margaret  must 
some  time  make,  that  his  step-mother  was  a  Mennonite, 
talked  Pennsylvania  Dutch,  was  wholly  uneducated  and, 
in  short,  a  disgrace  to  the  Leitzel  family. 

"We  must  send  her  a  card,  Daniel,  whether  she  comes 
or  not." 

"No,  no;  she  might  take  a  notion  to  come!" 

"  But  that  would  be  lovely !  I  am  so  fond  of  old  ladies. 
Why  do  you  say  'No?' " 

"I  don't  want  her  'round ! "  he  snapped  fretfully.  "  Don't 
send  her  an  invitation!  She  lives  only  fifteen  miles  from 
here  and  I  do  believe  she'd  come  if  she  were  invited,  she's 
so  proud  of  being  related  to  us!  You  see,  Margaret," 
he  added,  preparing  the  way  a  bit,  "she's  not  exactly 
our  equal,  I'm  sorry  to  tell  you." 

"Then,"  thought  Margaret,  "she's  undoubtedly  a  very 
superior  woman!" 

"Daniel!"  she  suddenly  proposed,  "if  she  lives  only 
fifteen  miles  away,  let's  motor  out  to  see  her." 

"We  haven't  time,"  said  Daniel  shortly. 

"Some  other  time  then?     I'd  like  to  meet  her." 
[143] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"Perhaps." 

"Won't  she  be  at  Hiram's  to-morrow  at  the  family 
party  at  Millerstown?" 

"No." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  Hiram  won't  invite  her.  We  have  very  little 
to  do  with  her,  my  dear,  except  to  give  her  her  home." 

"  You  do  that?  "  She  wondered  at  the  number  of  people 
he  supported. 

"Well,  she  lives  in  our  old  home  near  our  coal  lands. 
We  don't  charge  her  any  rent." 

"I'm  going  out  to  see  her  some  time,  Daniel.  Since 
you  don't  care  to  visit  her,  I'll  take  Miss  Hamilton.  I'd 
like  to  see  your  coal  lands  and  your  old  home." 

Daniel  looked  apoplectic.  "Margaret!"  he  gasped. 
"Listen  to  me!  Don't  speak  to  any  one  of  my  step- 
mother! Hardly  any  one  knows  we  have  one  and  we 
don't  want  them  to  know  it." 

"Gracious!    Why  not?" 

"We're  ashamed  of  her,  Margaret.  She's  not  a  lady, 
though  I  don't  see  why  that  should  reflect  on  us,  since 
she  isn't  a  blood  relation.  And  as  to  Miss  Hamilton, 
haven't  I  made  it  clear  to  you  that  it  would  humiliate 
me  unbearably  to  have  my  wife  seen  in  company  with 
my  stenographer?" 

"Oh,  but,  Daniel,  my  dear,  because  her  family  are 
'renters?'  There,  there,"  she  patted  him,  "don't  worry 
about  me.  I'm  twenty-five  years  old,  you  know,  and  am 
surely  competent  to  choose  my  own  friends.  And  it's 
better  to  be  renters  than  rotters.  Let  us  go  home,  now, 

[144] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

will  you?  It's  getting  late,  and  I'm  cold — and  hungry. 
Jennie  promised  us  buckwheat  cakes  for  supper.  Tell 
me  all  about  your  brother  Hiram's  family,"  she  added 
when  Daniel  had  ordered  the  chauffeur  to  turn  home. 
"How  many  children  has  he?  I'll  be  so  glad  to  get  some 
children  into  my  arms  again — I'm  so  awfully  homesick 
for  Hattie's  babies!" 

There  was  a  little  catch  in  her  voice  and  Daniel  an- 
swered sympathetically:  "I'd  like  to  see  Hattie's  babies 
again  myself!  They  certainly  are  nice  little  children — 
the  most  aristocratic  looking  children,  Margaret,  I  ever 
saw.  I  hope,"  he  lowered  his  voice,  "that  our  children 
will  be  as  aristocratic  looking." 

Margaret  closed  her  eyes  for  an  instant  as  though  to 
shut  out  some  things  she  did  not  wish  to  see. 

"How  many  children?"  she  repeated  after  a  moment. 

"Four:  Zwingli,  Naomi,  Christian,  and  Daniel.  Daniel, 
the  baby,  is  my  namesake  of  course.  You  see,  Hiram 
had  about  decided  I  wasn't  going  to  marry  and  that  hav- 
ing no  children  of  my  own,  I'd  do  wrell  by  my  namesake. 
But,"  Daniel  chuckled,  "I  fooled  him,  didn't  I?" 

"Do  you  like  his  wife?" 

"Oh,  yes,  he  did  very  well,  very  well  indeed.  Lizzie's 
worth  thirty  thousand  dollars." 

He  paused  expectantly.  Here  was  Margaret's  chance 
to  speak  up  and  tell  him  what  she  was  worth. 

"If  she's  worth  that  much,"  was  Margaret's  comment, 
"she  certainly  ought  to  be  all  wool  and  a  yard  wide.  But 
I  asked  whether  you  liked  her." 

"Why,  yes,  she's  a  good  wife,"  returned  Daniel,  dis- 
[145] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

appointed,  his  tone  dejected.  Why  couldn't  he  make 
Margaret  talk  property?  "Hiram  married  the  richest 
woman  in  Millerstown.  And  she's  a  very  capable  and 
economical  woman,  too.  You'll  hear  my  brother  preach 
to-morrow,"  he  added  with  pride,  cheering  up  a  bit. 
"He's  a  fine  preacher.  So  considered  in  Millerstown. 
If  he  had  gone  into  the  ministry  younger,  he'd  have  made 
his  mark  in  his  profession  just  as  I  have  done  in  the  law; 
but  he  was  nearly  thirty  when  he  began  to  study.  Yes," 
said  Daniel  as  the  car  drew  up  at  their  door,  "you'll  hear 
a  great  sermon  when  you  hear  my  brother  Hiram  preach." 


[146 


XII 


IT  WAS  the  next  day  on  the  train  on  their  way  to 
Millerstown,  to  visit  Hiram's  church  and  his  family, 
that  an  illuminating  little  incident  occurred  in  the 
matter  of  the  gifts  they  were  taking  to  the  children. 

"What's  that  package  you  have,  Margaret?"  Jennie 
inquired,  rather  in  the  tone  of  a  demand,  as  the  four  of 
them  sat  in  two  facing  seats  of  a  day  coach,  Jennie  and 
Sadie  having  both  offered  Daniel  the  seat  by  the  window 
and  regarding  Margaret  with  evident  disapproval  because 
she  had  not  offered  hers. 

"A  book  for  the  children,"  Margaret  replied,  thinking 
Jennie's  question  and  tone  both  somewhat  surprisingly 
impertinent.  "An  illustrated  book  of  Bible  stories.  I 
found  very  little  to  choose  from  in  the  New  Munich  shops; 
this  was  the  best  thing  I  could  find.  I'm  sure  your  brother 
Hiram  will  approve  of  such  a  proper  book,  though  it's 
at  the  same  time  one  that  even  naughty  little  boys  will 
love — just  full  of  gruesome  pictures.  That's  why  I  got 
it." 

"But  Hiram's  boys  ain't  naughty;  they're  awful  well- 
behaved,"  Sadie  corrected  this  unjust  aspersion. 

"I  hope  not  too  well-behaved,  or  I  shan't  feel  at  home 
with  them.  I  like  'the  dear,  delightful  bad  ones/  as 
Riley  calls  them." 

[1471 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"You  had  no  need  to  buy  them  a  present,  Margaret," 
Jennie  reproved  her.  "Danny  gave  me  a  dollar  yester- 
day for  you  and  him,  and  then  I  and  Sadie  each  put  fifty 
cents  at — and  I  got  nice  presents  for  the  children  from  us 
all  together." 

"What  did  you  pay  for  the  book,  Margaret?"  asked 
Daniel.  "It  looks  large." 

"I  forget  exactly;  three  dollars,  I  believe,  or  two-fifty." 

"Tut,  tut!"  exclaimed  Daniel  hastily.  "You're  too  ex- 
travagant!" 

"My  goodness!  Two-fifty  or  three  dollars  yet!"  cried 
Jennie.  "Money  must  be  a-plenty  with  you,  Margaret." 

"I'll  tell  you  what,"  suggested  Daniel  fussily:  "keep 
back  the  presents  you  brought  along,  Jennie,  and  give  the 
book  from  us  all,  and  then  the  next  time  we  come  to  Hiram's 
we  can  use  those  other  presents." 

"Yes,  well,  but,"  objected  Jennie,  "then  I  and  Sadie 
won't  have  paid  our  full  share  if  Margaret  gave  two-fifty 
or  three  dollars  for  the  book  yet." 

"Which  was  it,  Margaret?"  Daniel  inquired  a  bit 
sharply.  "Surely  you  know  whether  you  paid  two-fifty 
or  three  dollars  for  the  book?" 

"Does  it  matter?  If  you  require  the  exact  statistics 
I  remember  the  price  of  the  book  was  three-fifty,  and  they 
offered  it  to  me  for  three." 

"Then,  Jennie,"  said  Daniel,  "you  and  Sadie  each  give 
a  quarter  more  and  we'll  save  back  the  other  things  until 
the  next  time." 

And  to  Margaret's  unspeakable  astonishment  her  hus- 
band's sisters  opened  their  purses,  counted  out  twenty- 

[148] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

five  cents  each  and  passed  it  over  to  Daniel,  who  serenely 
received  it  and  dropped  it  into  his  own  purse. 

"If  you're  playing  a  game,"  said  Margaret,  holding  out 
her  hand,  "I'll  take  my  share,  please — two  and  a  quarter." 

"But  you  and  I  are  one,"  said  Daniel  jocularly,  "and 
what's  mine  is " 

"Your  own?"  asked  Margaret  as  he  hesitated. 

Daniel  laughed  with  appreciation  of  this  witty  retort. 
It  was  discouraging  to  Margaret  that  he  always  laughed 
when  she  was  fatuous  and  never  when  she  said  a  thing  she 
considered  rather  good. 

"And,  my  dear,"  he  admonished  her,  "remember  after 
this  that  we  always  put  together  to  buy  for  Hiram's 
children.  We  can  do  better  that  way,  not  only  for  the 
children,  but  it  comes  lighter  on  each  one  of  us." 

Margaret  did  not  reply.  The  incident,  somehow, 
struck  a  chill  to  her  heart. 

"It  must  be,"  she  concluded,  "that  Jennie  and  Sadie 
have  some  little  income  of  their  own  and  are  not  entirely 
dependent  upon  Daniel." 

If  this  were  true,  she  felt  it  would  exonerate  her  from 
some  of  the  forbearance  she  had  been  so  carefully  prac- 
tising. 

As  they  reached  Millerstown  just  in  time  for  the  open- 
ing of  the  service  at  Hiram's  church,  Margaret  first  saw 
her  brother-in-law  from  the  front  pew,  as  he  stood  before 
his  congregation  in  his  pulpit. 

"You  take  notice,"  Jennie  had  warned  her  on  their  way 
from  the  station  to  the  church,  "how  the  folks  in  Hiram's 
church  look  when  we  come  in  and  walk  up  to  the  front  pew." 

[149] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"At  me?" 

"Well,  at  you,  mebby,  this  Sunday,  because  this  is  the 
first  time  they  are  seeing  you.  But  it's  Danny  they  look 
at  mostly,  such  a  way-up  lawyer  as  he  is,  coming  into  their 
church.  And  every  year  he  gives  them  a  contribution 
yet." 

There  actually  was  a  stir  in  the  congregation  as  the 
party  of  four  was  ushered  to  the  pew  reserved  for  them, 
and  Margaret  noted  curiously  the  look  of  satisfaction  it 
brought  to  the  faces  of  her  husband  and  his  sisters. 

The  village  volunteer  choir  was  singing  a  "selection" 
as  they  entered: 

"We're  going  home  to  glory 
In  the  good  old-fashioned  way." 

In  Hiram's  prayer,  which  followed,  he  informed  God, 
whom  he  addressed  in  epistolary  style  as  "  Dear  God," 
that  "the  good  old-fashioned  way"  was  plenty  good  enough 
for  the  members  of  the  Millerstown  United  Brethren 
Church. 

Margaret,  unable  to  keep  her  mind  on  the  rambling 
discourse  intended  to  be  a  prayer,  noted  that  the  speaker's 
accent  and  diction,  while  not  illiterate,  were  very  crude, 
that  he  took  a  manifest  pleasure  in  the  hackneyed  re- 
ligious phrases  which  rolled  stentoriously  from  his  lips, 
and  that  he  wore  an  expression,  as  he  prayed,  of  smug 
self-satisfaction.  She  also  observed  that,  like  Daniel, 
he  was  small,  slight,  and  insignificant  looking;  and  she 
suddenly  realized,  with  a  sinking  of  her  heart,  that  in  this 
uncouth  village  preacher  she  really  saw  her  husband  as 

[150] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

he  would  assuredly  appear  if  stripped  of  the  veneer  which 
an  earlier  training  and  a  college  education  had  given  him. 

As  they  sat  down  after  the  prayer,  Sadie  whispered  to 
her:  "That's  Hiram's  Lizzie  over  there  with  three  of  the 
children."  And  glancing  across  the  aisle,  Margaret 
saw  in  the  opposite  front  pew  a  buxom,  matronly  young 
woman,  dressed  somewhat  elaborately  in  clothes  of  vil- 
lage cut  and  with  a  rather  heavy  but  honest  and  whole- 
some countenance;  her  three  children,  shining  from  soap 
and  water,  and  dressed  also  elaborately  in  village  style, 
were  gathered  with  her  in  the  pew. 

In  the  sermon  that  Hiram  preached  Margaret  couldn't 
help  suspecting  that  he  was,  this  morning,  doing  some 
"special  stunts"  to  impress  her,  so  often  did  his  complacent 
glance  wander  down  to  meet  her  upward,  attentive  gaze. 
For  indeed  she  couldn't  help  listening  to  him,  so  astonish- 
ing did  his  so-called  sermon  seem  to  her,  so  colossal  his 
self-approval. 

His  theme  was  Lot's  unfortunate  career  in  Sodom,  and 
in  his  extraordinary  paraphrasing  of  the  scriptural  story 
he  gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  probably  one  of  the  causes 
leading  to  Lot's  downfall  was  the  ambition  of  Mrs.  Lot 
and  her  daughter  to  get  into  Sodom's  Four  Hundred. 
From  the  Lot  family  as  social  climbers  in  Sodom,  the 
preacher  launched  forth  into  a  denunciation  of  the  idle, 
dissipated  lives  of  fashionable  women  (with  which  he 
assumed  a  first-hand  intimacy) ,  a  denunciation  that  seemed 
rather  irrelevant  as  spiritual  food  for  his  simple  village 
hearers.  He  hauled  into  his  discourse,  without  regard  to 
sequence  of  ideas,  time,  space,  or  logic,  Martha  and  Mary 

[151] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

of  the  New  Testament,  saying  that  some  one  had  once 
asked  him  which  of  the  two  he'd  have  preferred  to  marry. 
"Martha  before  dinner  and  Mary  after  dinner,"  had  been 
his  response,  and  his  congregation  rippled  with  amuse- 
ment and  almost  applauded.  A  few  moments  later  he 
was  moving  them  to  tears  by  his  deep-toned,  solemn  refer- 
ences to  death  and  the  grave  and  "the  hollow  sounds  of 
clods  of  earth  falling  upon  the  coffin  lid." 

Before  pronouncing  the  Benediction  he  asked  the  con- 
gregation to  "tarry  a  moment  for  social  intercourse"; 
and  in  the  exchange  of  greetings  which  followed,  Margaret 
could  see  how  Daniel,  Jennie,  and  Sadie  revelled  in  the 
obsequiousness  of  most  of  these  shy  villagers  before  their 
pastor's  distinguished  brother  and  his  two  elaborately  ar- 
rayed sisters;  for  Jennie  and  Sadie  looked  very  expensive 
indeed  in  their  near-seal  coats  which  they  were  sure  none 
but  an  expert  could  distinguish  from  sealskin. 

When  they  presently  went  over  to  the  parsonage, 
Jennie  informed  Margaret  that  Lizzie's  father  had  "fur- 
nished for  her."  The  parlour  which  they  entered  was  fitted 
out  in  heavy  old-gold  plush  sofa  and  chairs,  a  marble- 
topped  centre  table,  a  gilt-framed  motto  over  the  mantel, 
"Welcome,"  and  a  rug  in  front  of  the  sofa  stamped  with 
the  words,  "Sweet  Home." 

At  the  abundant  and  well-cooked  dinner  to  which  they 
all  gathered  immediately  after  church  and  which  was  served 
without  any  superfluous  ceremony,  since  "Hiram's  Liz- 
zie" kept  but  one  "hired  girl,"  Hiram  entirely  monopolized 
the  table  talk,  even  Daniel  being  no  match  in  egotism  for 
his  clerical  brother,  and  Jennie  managing  with  difficulty 

[152] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

to  wedge  in  an  occasional  warning  to  Sadie  to  refrain  from 
eating  certain  things  that  might  give  her  "the  indigestion." 

As  for  the  children,  they  sat  in  awed  silence  under  the 
double  spell  of  their  father's  flow  of  speech  and  the  pres- 
ence of  a  stranger,  their  new  aunt.  They  were  all  three 
rather  dull,  heavy  children,  from  whom  Margaret's 
friendly  and  playful  overtures  could  extract  very  little 
response. 

Hiram  boasted  about  himself  so  shamelessly  that  Mar- 
garet wondered  why  his  wife,  sensible  woman  as  she  ap- 
peared to  be,  did  not  blush  for  him.  But  Lizzie's  Penn- 
sylvania German  sense  of  deep  loyalty  to  her  spouse,  her 
reverence  for  him  as  a  minister,  no  less  than  her  natural 
simplicity  and  stupidity,  blinded  her  to  his  painfully 
obvious  weaknesses  and  made  her  see  in  him  only  those 
things  in  which  he  was  her  superior.  He,  on  his  part, 
patronized  her  kindly.  She  could  not  have  suited  him 
better  if  she  had  been  made  to  order. 

"Yes,  I'm  often  told  by  folks  who  hear  me  preach  or 
lecture  that  I'm  a  born  orator.  That's  what  they  say  I 
am — a  born  orator.  No  credit  to  me — comes  natural. 
You  noticed,  sister-in-law,  my  sermon  this  morning  was 
entirely  extemporaneous.  Only  a  few  notes  to  guide  me. 
Nothing  at  all  but  a  few  notes.  And  did  I  pause  for  a 
word,  sister-in-law,  did  I?" 

"I  didn't  hear  you  pause,  brother-in-law,"  responded 
Margaret,  adding  to  herself,  "You  big  wind-bag!  If  you 
ever  did  pause  for  a  word,  your  words  might  occasionally 
mean  something." 

"You  might  think  I  spent  a  great  deal  of  time  in  the 
[  1531 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

preparation  of  my  sermons,"  continued  Hiram.  "Any 
one  would  think  so  that  heard  me.  But  I  can  prove  it  by 
Lizzie  that  I  don't  have  to.  Give  me  a  text  and  get  me 
started  and  it's  like  rolling  down  hill  for  me.  Natural 
gift.  Couldn't  help  it  if  I  wanted  to.  Have  my  people 
laughing  one  minute,  crying  the  next — story  of  Mary 
and  Martha — clods  of  earth  falling  on  coffin  lid — humour 
and  pathos  alternately.  That's  oratory,  sister-in-law. 
Why,  they  think  here  in  Millerstown  that  they  can't 
have  any  kind  of  a  celebration  without  me  to  speak — 
Fourth  of  July,  Memorial  Day,  Lincoln's  and  Washing- 
ton's Birthday  celebrations,  Y.  M.  C.  A.  meetings,  Y.  W. 
C.  A.  rallies,  W.  C.  T.  U.  gatherings,  S.  P.  C.  A.  anniver- 
saries. I'm  constantly  in  demand,  constantly.  Nothing 
quite  right  unless  Reverend  Leitzel's  there  to  speak! 
Ain't  it  so,  Lizzie?" 

"Yes,  indeed,  it's  something  wonderful  the  way  they're 
after  him  all  the  time  to  speak,"  said  Lizzie  with  pride. 

'When  I  take  my  month's  vacation  in  the  summer  and 
they  have  to  listen  to  a  substitute  for  four  Sundays,  oh, 
my,  but  then  you  hear  them  growl !  '  The  substitute  may 
be  a  good  enough  preacher'  they  say  to  me, '  but  he  won't 
be  our  Reverend  Leitzel.'  And  when  I  come  back  to 
them  again — well,  the  way  they  flock  to  hear  me  the  very 
first  Sunday,  and  the  way  they  tell  me,  'That  substitute 
never  made  us  laugh  once;  he  never  made  us  shed  a  tear. 
There's  no  sermons  like  yours,  Reverend  Leitzel!'  Ain't 
they  always  glad  to  see  me  back  again,  Lizzie,  after  my 
vacation?" 

"Well,  I  guess!"  replied  Lizzie,  holding  a  large  slice 
1154] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

of  bread  on  her  palm  and  spreading  it  with  butter  for 
Zwingli. 

"I'm  even  invited  to  New  Munich  sometimes  to  give 
an  address  and  to  Lebanon  and  even  to  Reading  yet,  and 
that's  a  big  place.  You  see  they  know  I  have  the  power 
to  hold  an  audience.  I  never  fail  to  hold  my  audience. 
Did  you  ever  see  me  fail  to  hold  my  audiences,  Lizzie?  " 

"No,  indeed,  they're  always  sorry  when  he  stops 
preaching!"  affirmed  Lizzie. 

"I  was  once  approached  by  some  men  who  offered  to 
finance  me  as  an  evangelist,  and  if  I  had  consented  I'd 
be  as  rich  a  man  to-day  as  brother  Daniel  is,  for  there  ain't 
a  more  money-making  profession  to-day  than  Evangelism, 
every  one  knows  that.  Look  at  Billy  Sunday's  rake-offs! 
But  I  had  to  refuse  them  because  they  wanted  me  to  do  a 
certain  thing  that  my  conscience  wouldn't  leave  me  do: 
they  said  a  feature  of  my  evangelistic  campaign  would 
have  to  be  addresses  to  audiences  of  Women  Only,  on 
Eugenics;  that  you  couldn't  have  a  swell,  up-to-date 
evangelistic  campaign  without  that  big  drawing  card. 
Well,  I  said  I  could  easy  do  that;  so  that  part  was  all  right. 
Bui  when  they  told  me  that  in  order  to  make  it  a  go,  I'd 
have  to  interduce  into  my  talk  to  Women  Only,  one  or  two 
sudgestive  remarks,  I  refused!"  said  Hiram  heroically. 
"Not  one  sudgestive  remark  will  I  make,  I  told  them. 
'Take  me  or  leave  me,  but  I  won't  make  one  sudgestive 
remark  to  an  audience  of  Women  Only!'  So,"  he  con- 
cluded grandly,  "by  standing  up  for  my  principles,  you 
see,  I  lost  a  fortune!" 

Margaret  glanced,  now  and  then,  at  Daniel  and  his 
[1551 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

sisters  to  learn  from  their  faces  whether  they  considered 
Hiram  sane;  but  they,  far  from  looking  alarmed  or  dis- 
gusted, seemed  to  regard  the  bouquets  he  flung  at  himself 
as  a  personal  tribute  to  themselves,  his  near  relatives,  who 
could  at  least  inhale  their  fragrance. 

"Yes,  Hiram's  a  born  preacher,  that  I  will  say,"  re- 
marked Jennie. 

"Yes,  from  a  little  boy,  yet,  he  always  wanted  to  be  a 
preacher,"  added  Sadie. 

"He's  got  the  gift  all  right,"  affirmed  Daniel  emphati- 
cally. 

An  expectant  pause,  just  here,  made  Margaret  realize 
that  they  were  waiting  for  her  to  cast  her  bouquet  at 
Hiram's  feet.  She  was  an  amiable  creature  and  would 
have  been  perfectly  willing  to  oblige  them  if  her  wits 
had  been  more  agile;  but  for  the  life  of  her  she  could 
think  of  nothing  to  say  that  would  not  too  deeply  perjure 
her  soul. 

Her  silence,  however,  in  no  way  daunted  Hiram. 

"How  did  you  like  my  sermon  this  morning,  sister-in- 
law?"  he  frankly  inquired. 

"It  was  the  best — of  its  kind — I  ever  heard,"  responded 
Margaret,  looking  at  him  without  blinking. 

"Thank  you,"  he  bowed.  "I'm  sure  you  are  perfectly 
sincere,  too,  in  your  complimentary  opinion." 

"Perfectly  sincere,"  said  Margaret. 

"In  what  church  were  you  raised? " 

"My  family  has  a  perpetual  life  ownership  of  a  pew  in 
the  oldest  Episcopal  Church  in  Charleston,  but  I  must 
admit  that  it  isn't  often  occupied." 

[156] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"You  are  a  Christian,  I  trust?"  said  Hiram  gravely. 

Margaret  did  not  think  a  reply  necessary,  or  perhaps 
advisable.  So  she  made  none. 

"Are  you  a  Christian,  sister-in-law?"  Hiram  solemnly 
repeated. 

"I'm  a  Democrat,  a  Suffragist,  a  Southerner — I  don't 
know  what  all!"  said  Margaret  flippantly. 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,  sister-in-law,  that  you  ain't  a 
Christian?" 

"  I  consider  that  a  very  personal  question,  and  if  you  call 
me  'sister-in-law'  again,  I'll — I'll  steal  your  little  girl 
here,"  she  added,  slipping  her  arm  about  the  unresponsive 
child  at  her  side,  "and  take  her  home  with  me.  Do  you 
want  to  come  to  New  Munich  with  your  new  aunt,  my 
dear?"  she  asked  the  child. 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

This  digression  diverted  the  talk  for  a  time  from  the 
all-engrossing  topic  of  Hiram's  oratorical  prowess,  and 
as  there  now  ensued  the  distracting  clatter  of  clearing  the 
laden  table  for  dessert,  the  respite  continued  a  bit  longer. 

But  after  dinner,  when  they  were  again  gathered  in  the 
parlour,  Hiram  continued  his  monologue  with  unabated 
relish,  pacing  the  length  of  the  room  as  he  talked,  his  well- 
disciplined,  or  utterly  phlegmatic,  children  sitting  in 
silence  among  their  elders,  Daniel  fondly  holding  on  his 
knee  Christian,  the  youngest  of  the  three  (there  was  a 
rather  new  baby  upstairs),  and  letting  him  play  with  his 
big  gold  watch. 

Having  got  the  impression  that  Margaret  was  an  "un- 
believer," Hiram  entered  upon  a  polemic  in  defence  of 

[157] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"the  faith  once  delivered  to  the  saints,"  sweeping  from 
the  earth  with  one  fell  stroke  all  the  results  of  German 
scholarship  in  Biblical  criticism,  refuting  in  three  sentences 
the  arguments  (as  he  understood  them)  of  Darwin,  Spen- 
cer, and  Huxley,  putting  Matthew  Arnold  severely  in  his 
place  as  "a  back  number,"  rating  Emerson  as  "a  gross 
materialist,"  and  himself  as  a  godly  and  spiritually  minded 
favourite  of  Almighty  God. 

Margaret  soon  began  to  feel  very  restive  under  this 
continued  deluge.  She  would  have  liked  a  chance  to 
cultivate  the  children,  or  to  talk  to  Lizzie  and  try  to  dis- 
cover whether  that  good,  sensible  face  had  anything  behind 
it  besides  an  evidently  doting  belief  in  her  husband. 

"Probably  not,"  she  mused,  while  Hiram  continued  to 
blow  his  trumpet.  "A  merciful  Providence,  foreseeing 
her  marriage  to  this  unspeakable  ass,  made  her  brainless. 
Oh!  What  would  Uncle  Osmond  have  done  with  a 
creature  like  this  Hiram?  What  would  happen,  I  wonder, 
if  I  said  'damn'  before  him?  If  it  weren't  for  the  feelings 
of  Daniel  and  his  sisters,  I'd  certainly  try  it  on  him.  If 
I  find  myself  alone  with  him,  I'm  going  to  swear!  I'll 
swear  at  him !  I'll  say, ' You  little  damn  fool ! '" 


[158] 


XIII 

IT  WAS  not  until  the  hour  for  leaving  Millerstown, 
when  Margaret  was  taken  by  her  hostess  to  an  up- 
stairs' bedroom  to  rearrange  her  hair  before  starting, 
that  she  and  Hiram's  wife  were  given  an  opportunity  for 
a  word  together.  What,  then,  was  her  chagrin  to  have 
Lizzie  at  once  take  up  her  husband's  eulogistic  harangue 
where  he  had  left  it  off. 

"Daniel  and  Jennie  and  Sadie  always  say  their  New 
Munich  preacher  seems  so  slow  and  uninteresting  after 
they've  heard  Hiram.  I  guess  you'll  think,  too,  next 
Sunday,  their  minister's  a  poor  preacher  towards  what 
Hiram  is." 

"I  don't  go  to  church  every  Sunday.  To  tell  you  the 
truth,  Lizzie,  I'm  not  awfully  fond  of  sermons." 

"Oh,  ain't  you?  I  do  like  a  good  sermon,  the  kind 
Hiram  preaches." 

"You  never  get  tired  of  them?" 

"Not  of  Hiram's,"  said  Lizzie,  shocked. 

"Of  course  not  of  Hiram's,"  Margaret  hastily  concurred. 

"Does  Danny  insist  you  go  along  to  the  U.  B.  Church, 
or  do  you  attend  the  Episcopal?" 

"The  Episcopalians  are  trying  to  gather  me  into  their 
fold  and  Daniel  seems  to  want  me  to  go  there." 

"It's  so  much  more  tony  than  at  the  U.  B.  Church," 
[159] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

nodded  Lizzie  understandingly.  "Yes,  Danny  often  said 
already  that  if  he  hadn't  a  brother  that  is  a  U.  B.  preacher, 
he'd  join  to  the  Episcopals.  But  it  wouldn't  look  nice 
for  him  to  leave  the  U.  B's  when  Hiram's  minister  of  the 
U.  B.  Church,  would  it?" 

"It  wouldn't  look  nice  for  him  to  leave  it  for  the  other 
reason  you  mentioned." 

"That  the  Episcopals  are  so  tony  that  way?  Well, 
but  Danny  thinks  an  awful  lot  of  that — if  a  thing  is  tony 
or  not.  Don't  you,  too?  You  look  as  if  you  did." 

"The  word  isn't  in  my  vocabulary,  Lizzie.  Let  me 
have  another  look  at  the  baby  before  I  go,  won't  you?" 

"He  looks  like  Hiram — ain't?"  said  the  mother  fondly 
as  they  stood  beside  the  crib  in  her  bedroom  and  gazed 
down  upon  the  sleeping  infant.  "  I  hope  he  gives  as  smart 
a  man  as  what  his  father  is." 

"But,  Lizzie,  don't  you  think  the  room  is  too  close  for 
him?"  Margaret  gasped,  loosening  the  fur  at  her  throat 
in  the  stifling  atmosphere  of  the  chamber. 

"Yes,"  Lizzie  whispered,  "but  Jennie  and  Sadie  are  so 
oM-fashioned  that  way,  they  think  it's  awful  to  have  fresh 
air  at  a  baby.  When  they  go,  I  open  up." 

"But,"  asked  Margaret,  surprised,  "why  do  you  have 
to  be  'old-fashioned'  because  they  are?" 

"Hush — sh!  They're  coming  upstairs  to  get  their 
coats  and  hats.  A  person  darsent  go  against  them,  es- 
pecially Jennie.  Haven't  you  found  that  out  yet?  I've 
been  wondering  how  you  were  getting  on  with  them; 
they'll  want  to  boss  you  so!" 

"Oh,  I  was  bossed  for  nine  years  by  the  uncle  with  whom 

[160] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

I  lived,  so  I've  learned  how  to — I'm  used  to  it,"  she  judi- 
ciously returned. 

"Do  you  think  you  can  stick  it  out  with  them?"  Lizzie 
whispered.  "Don't  you  think  mebby  one  of  these  days 
they'll  go  too  far  and  you'll  answer  them  back?  And  I 
guess  they  often  bragged  to  you  already,  didn't  they — 
how  they  never  get  over  an  insult  ?" 

"  I  trust  I  shall  never  insult  them ! " 

"Well,  I'm  as  peaceable  as  most,"  said  Lizzie,  "but  I 
often  felt  glad  already  that  we  live  a  little  piece  away  from 
Jennie  and  Sadie,  though  I  know  I  oughtn't  to  say  it.' 

"But  I  still  don't  see,  Lizzie,  why  you  keep  this  room 
air-tight  because  they  don't  like  fresh  air,"  said  Margaret, 
puzzled.  "Do  you  mean  you'd  rather  damage  your 
baby  than  have  them  quarrel  with  you?" 

"Well,  I  open  up  as  soon  as  they  go.  You  see  if  they 
ever  get  mad  at  me,  they'd  cut  our  children  out  of  their 
will." 

"Their  will?     I  thought  Daniel  supported  them." 

Lizzie  stared  incredulously.  "Danny  supported  them? " 
she  repeated  hoarsely.  "Och,  my  souls!  You  thought 
that!  As  if  he  would!" 

Lizzie  looked  so  contemptuous  of  Margaret's  intelli- 
gence that  the  latter  realized  their  opinion  of  each  other's 
brilliancy  was  mutual. 

"But,"  Margaret  argued,  "Daniel  would  have  to  sup- 
port them  if  they  were  penniless.  They  are  too  old  to 
support  themselves." 

"They  have  their  own  good  incomes  this  long  time  al- 
ready," stated  Lizzie.  "Do  you  mean  to  say,"  she  asked 

[161] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

wonderingly,  "that  you  thought  they  hadn't  anything 
and  yet  you  didn't  mind  Daniel's  keeping  them  at  his 
house  with  you  there?" 

"Why  should  that  make  any  difference  to  me — their 
'having'  anything?" 

"  Say!"  said  Lizzie,  her  dull  eyes  wide  open.  "I  always 
heard  how  in  the  South  it  gives  easy-going  people,  but  I 
never  thought  they  would  be  that  easy-going!" 

"  Suppose  your  husband  wanted  his  sisters  to  live  here," 
Margaret  asked  curiously,  "you  would  not  consent  to  it? 
You'd  oppose  Hiram,  would  you?  I  can't  seem  to  see  you 
doing  that,  Lizzie." 

"But  Hiram  wouldn't  want  Jennie  and  Sadie  to  live 
here !  He'd  know  better.  He'd  know  that,  peaceable  as  I 
am,  I  couldn't  hold  out  with  them;  and  to  be  sure,  Hiram 
and  I  would  both  feel  awful  bad  to  have  them  get  down  on 
us.  Why,  they've  got,  anyhow,  a  hundred  thousand  dol- 
lars apiece!" 

"And  wear  near-seal  coats,"  said  Margaret  thoughtfully, 
"and  rhinestone  rings!  How  queer!" 

"Yes,  ain't  their  coats  grand?  They  paid  fifty  dollars 
apiece  for  them!  Maybe  Danny  will  get  you  one  like 
them  some  time." 

"  God  forbid !  I'd  get  a  divorce  if  he  did !  Come,  Lizzie, 
don't  you  be  a  coward — let  some  air  into  this  room.  I'll 
stand  by  you  and  take  your  part!"  she  said,  holding  up 
her  muff  as  if  it  were  a  revolver  and  aiming  toward  the 
next  room,  in  which  they  could  hear  the  voices  of  Jennie 
and  Sadie.  "Advance  at  your  peril!"  she  dramatically 
addressed  the  closed  door  between  the  two  rooms. 

[  1621 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

Lizzie  stared  in  dumb  wonder  and  slowly  shook  her 
head.  "No,  I  darsent  get  Jennie  mad  at  me.  Wait 
till  you  have  a  baby  once  and  you  will  see  how  they'll 
want  to  tell  you  the  way  to  raise  it.  You'll  have  to  mind 
them  if  you  want  your  children  to  inherit  from  them." 

"Oh,  Lizzie,  it  doesn't  pay  to  sell  one's  soul  for  a  mess  of 
pottage!" 

Scarcely  had  she  spoken  when  she  looked  for  Lizzie  to 
respond,  "You  married  Danny!"  But  this  bright  retort 
did  not  apparently  occur  to  Lizzie,  for  she  only  stared  at 
Margaret  dumbly. 

"Well,"  thought  Margaret,  "of  course  a  woman  who 
considered  Hiram  a  prize  wouldn't  think  Daniel  needed 
to  be  apologized  for." 

"Lizzie,"  she  changed  the  subject  abruptly,  "have  you 
ever  seen  your  husband's  step-mother?" 

"Once  or  twice  or  so,  yes." 

"I've  been  in  New  Munich  two  months  and  have  not 
yet  met  her,  though,  you  know,  she  lives  only  fifteen  miles 
away." 

"Yes,  well,  but  we  don't  associate  with  her  much. 
She's  very  plain  and  common  that  way,  and  Jennie  and 
Sadie  are  so  proud  and  high-minded,  you  know.  They're 
ashamed  of  their  step-mother." 

"And  you,  Lizzie,  are  you  ashamed  of  her?" 

"Oh,  well,  me,  I'm  not  so  proud  that  way.  But  Hiram 
he  would  not  like  for  me  to  take  up  with  her,  he  feels  it 
so  much  that  they  have  to  leave  her  live  rent  free  in  their 
old  home  when  she  ain't  their  own  mother;  but  Daniel 
and  the  girls  won't  put  her  to  the  poorhouse  for  fear  it 

[163] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

would  make  talk,  and  that  wouldn't  do,  you  see,  Daniel 
being  such  a  consistent  church  member  and  Hiram  a 
minister.  She  used  to  come  here  to  see  us  once  in  a  while 
and  Hiram  used  to  be  ashamed  to  walk  with  her  to  the 
depot  when  she  would  go  away,  because  she  is  a  Men- 
nonite  and  dresses  in  the  plain  garb,  and  it  looks  so  for  a 
United  Brethren  minister  to  walk  through  the  town  with 
a  Mennonite.  People  would  have  asked  him,  next  time 
they  saw  him,  who  she  was.  So  he  used  to  make  Naomi 
walk  with  her  to  the  depot.  Naomi  didn't  like  it  either, 
she  was  afraid  her  girl  friends  might  laugh  at  her  grand- 
mother. But  her  father  always  made  her  go.  And  then 
after  a  while  grandmom  she  stopped  coming  in  to  see  us 
any  more.  You  see,"  Lizzie  lowered  her  voice,  "the 
Leitzels  don't  want  folks  to  know  about  their  step-mother." 

"Because  she  is  'plain  and  common?' ' 

"Yes,  and  because  it  could  make  trouble.  I  don't 
rightly  understand,  but  I  think  they're  afraid  some  one 
might  put  her  up  to  bringing  a  law-suit  about  the  property. 
But  I  tell  Hiram  he  needn't  be  afraid  of  that;  no  one  could 
make  her  do  anything  against  any  of  them,  she's  too  proud 
of  them  and  she's  such  a  good-hearted  old  soul,  she  wouldn't 
hurt  a  cat." 

Margaret  was  silently  thoughtful  as  she  drew  on  her 
gloves. 

"About  six  months  back,"  Lizzie  continued,  "she  sur- 
prised us  all  by  coming  in  again  to  see  us;  it  was  so  long 
since  she'd  been  to  see  us,  we  never  looked  for  her.  And 
to  be  sure,  we  never  encouraged  her  to  come,  either,  Hiram 
feeling  the  way  he  does.  Well,  she  come  in  to  tell  us  she 

[164] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

didn't  feel  able  to  do  for  herself  any  more  out  there  alone 
on  the  old  place — she  supported  herself  raising  vegetables 
in  the  backyard — and  now,  she  said,  she's  too  old  any 
more  to  do  it,  and  wouldn't  we  give  her  a  home,  or  either 
Hiram,  or  either  Danny  and  the  girls.  Well,  the  girls 
and  Danny  wouldn't  hear  to  it.  Me,  I  said  if  she  was 
strong  enough  to  help  me  with  the  work  a  little,  I  could 
send  off  my  hired  girl  and  take  her.  But  Hiram  said  she 
wouldn't  be  able  to  do  the  washing  like  our  hired  girl  did, 
and  we  couldn't  keep  her  and  the  hired  girl;  and  anyhow 
he  couldn't  have  her  living  with  us,  her  being  a  Mennonite. 
'  It  stands  to  reason ! '  Hiram  said.  So  she  went  back  home 
again  and  I  haven't  seen  her  since.  I  pity  her,  too,  livin' 
alone  out  there,  as  old  as  what  she  is.  I  can't  think  how 
she  makes  out,  either!  What  makes  it  seem  so  hard  is 
that  she  was  such  a  good,  kind  step-mother  to  them  all 
while  they  were  poor,  and  it  was  only  her  hard  work  that 
kept  a  roof  over  them  for  many  years  while  their  father 
drank  and  didn't  do  anything  for  them." 

Margaret  still  made  no  comment,  though  she  was  looking 
very  grave  and  thoughtful. 

"Would  it  mebby  make  you  ashamed,  too,"  asked 
Lizzie,  "before  your  grand  friends  in  New  Munich,  to 
have  her  'round,  she  talks  so  Dutch  and  ignorant?" 

"No,"  Margaret  shook  her  head,  "I'm  not  'proud  and 
high-minded'  like  Jennie  and  Sadie." 

"Well,"  admitted  Lizzie  confidentially,  "I'm  not,  either; 
I  told  Hiram  once,  '  You  have  no  need  to  feel  ashamed  of 
her.  Wasn't  Christ's  father  nothing  but  a  carpenter?' 
But  Hiram  answered  me,  'Och,  Lizzie,  you're  dumb! 

[1651 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

Joseph  was  no  blood  relation  to  Christ.'     'Well,'  I  said, 
'neither  is  your  step-mother  your  blood  relation.' " 

"I  suppose,"  Margaret  speculated,  "if  their  step- 
mother had  money  to  leave  them,  they  wouldn't  feel  so 
'high-minded'  about  her,  would  they?" 

"Oh,  no,"  Lizzie  readily  assented;  "that  would  make  all 
the  difference!  But,  you  see,  she  hasn't  a  thing  but  what 
she  gets  from  the  vegetables  she  can  raise." 

"I  do  begin  to  see,"  nodded  Margaret. 

"Danny  never  told  us,"  Lizzie  ventured  tentatively, 
curiosity  evidently  getting  the  better  of  delicacy,  "what 
you're  worth!" 

"What  I'm  'worth?'  He  hasn't  tried  me  long  enough 
to  find  out.  But  I  hope  I'll  be  worth  as  much  to  him  as 
you  are  to  Hiram — giving  him  children  and  making  a  home 
for  him." 

"But  I  mean,"  explained  Lizzie,  colouring  a  little  at 
her  own  temerity,  but  with  curiosity  oozing  from  every 
pore  of  her,  "what  did  you  bring  Danny?  I  guess  Jennie 
and  Sadie  told  you  already  that  I  brought  Hiram  thirty 
thousand.  And  I'll  get  more  when  my  father  is  deceased." 

"Are  both  your  parents  living?"  asked  Margaret  with 
what  seemed  to  Lizzie  persistent  evasion. 

"My  mother  died  last  summer,"  she  returned  in  a 
matter-of-fact,  almost  cheerful  tone  of  voice.  "Pop  had 
her  to  Phil-delph-y  and  she  got  sick  for  him,  and  he  had 
to  bring  her  right  home,  and  in  only  half  a  day's  time,  she 
was  a  corpse  already ! "  said  Lizzie  brightly. 

"As  though  she  expected  me  to  say,  'Hurrah!  Good 
for  Mother!'"  thought  Margaret  wonderingly. 

[  166  1 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"Did  you  inherit,  too,  from  your  parents?"  persisted 
her  inquisitor. 

"All  my  virtues  and  all  my  vices,  I  believe,"  answered 
Margaret,  turning  away  and  walking  to  the  door.  "Shall 
we  go  down  now?" 

Lizzie  took  a  step  after  her:  "Maybe  you  think  I  spoke 
too  soon?"  she  asked  anxiously. 

"  'Spoke  too  soon?" 

"Asking  you  what  you're  worth.  To  be  sure  it  ain't 
any  of  my  business.  But  I  thought  I'd  ask  you  once. 
Hiram  would  be  so  pleased  if  after  you  go  I  could  tell  him. 
He  wonders  so,  did  his  brother  Danny  do  as  well  as  he 
did.  But  I  guess  I  spoke  too  soon." 

She  paused  expectantly. 

"Never  mind,"  said  Margaret  dully,  again  turning 
away. 

"Say!"  said  Lizzie  solicitously,  "you  look  tired  and  a 
little  pale.  Would  you  feel  for  a  cup  of  tea  before  you 
go?" 

"No  thank  you,  Lizzie." 

Just  here  the  door  opened  softly  and  Jennie  and  Sadie 
came  into  the  room  and  went  to  the  crib  of  the  slumbering 
baby. 

"Yes,  he  looks  good,"  nodded  Jennie  approvingly. 
"You  have  got  the  room  nice  and  warm,  Lizzie.  Just 
you  keep  the  air  off  of  him  and  he'll  never  get  sick  for  you. 
There's  a  doctor's  wife  lives  near  us  and  you  ought  to 
see,  Lizzie,  the  outlandish  way  she  raises  that  baby! 
Why,  any  time  you  pass  the  house  you  can  see  the  baby- 
coach  out  on  the  front  porch  standing,  whether  it's  cold 

[167] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

or  warm !  A  doctor's  wife,  mind  you,  exposing  her  young 
baby  like  that!  Till  they're  anyhow  eight  months  old 
already,  they  shouldn't  be  taken  into  the  air,  winter  or 
summer.  If  you  didn't  keep  little  Danny  in  the  house  all 
the  time,  you'd  soon  see  how  he'd  ketch  cold  for  you!" 

Lizzie  looked  at  Margaret  solemnly,  with  an  expression 
that  might  have  been  interpreted  as  a  wink. 

"He  certainly  is  a  fine  boy!"  murmured  Sadie  fondly, 
looking  upon  the  little  pink  and  white  baby  with  a  vague 
yearning  in  her  old  face. 

"Yes,"  said  Jennie  pensively,  "babies  are  such  nice 
little  things.  I  often  think  it's  such  a  pity  there  ain't  a 
more  genteel  wray  of  getting  them." 

Lizzie  nudged  Margaret  behind  Jennie's  back. 

"It's  a  pity  they  have  to  grow  up  to  be  men,"  said 
Margaret. 

As  they  all  went  downstairs,  Lizzie  held  Margaret  back 
for  an  instant  to  whisper  to  her:  "I  don't  know  what 
loosened  up  my  tongue  to-day,  to  say  the  things  to  you  I 
did!  Hiram  would  be  cross  if  he  knew  how  fnee  I  told 
you  things." 

"About  his  step-mother,  you  mean?" 

"No,  I  mean  about  Jennie  and  Sadie.  You  might  go 
and  tell  them  what  I  said! " 

"Yes,  I  might,  if  I  were  the  villainess  of  a  play  and 
wanted  to  make  them  cut  your  children  out  of  their 
wills!" 

"You  won't  tell,  will  you?"  Lizzie  pleaded.  "It  ain't 
that  I'd  care  so  much  (though  to  be  sure,  I'd  like  to  think 
the  children  would  inherit  all  they  could),  but  it's  Hiram 

[1681 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

would  be  so  displeased  at  me  talking  to  you  the  way  I 
did." 

"Don't  give  yourself  any  anxiety,  Lizzie;  of  course  I 
shall  not 'tell.'" 

Margaret  reflected,  on  the  way  home,  as,  quiet  and 
rather  white,  she  leaned  back  in  her  seat  in  the  train, 
pleading  fatigue  and  a  headache  to  escape  conversation, 
that  this  day,  somehow,  marked  an  epoch  in  her  under- 
standing of  the  Leitzel  family.  She  had  suddenly,  after 
two  months  of  incredible  obtuseness,  recognized  that  they 
measured  everything  in  life — duty,  friendship,  religion, 
love — by  just  one  thing. 

"Yet  Daniel  married  a  dowerless  wife!"  she  marvelled. 

The  wild  suspicion  crossed  her  mind  that  Walter  might 
have  misled  Daniel  into  thinking  her  an  heiress,  even  as 
he  had  let  her  assume  that  her  lover  was  well-born. 

But  she  was  instantly  ashamed  of  herself  for  even  con- 
ceiving of  such  treachery  on  Walter's  part. 


[169] 


XIV 


SADIE  LEITZEL  looked  as  though  she  were  about 
to  collapse  with  the  pressure  of  all  that  she  had  to 
communicate  to  Jennie  when  next  morning  she 
returned  alone,  at  noon,  from  a  shopping  excursion  upon 
which  she  had  started  out  just  after  breakfast  with  Mar- 
garet. 

Dropping  her  bundles  upon  the  centre  table  in  the 
sitting-room,  where  Jennie  sat  in  the  bay  window  darning 
Daniel's  socks,  she  dropped  herself  upon  the  sofa  with  a 
long  breath  of  mingled  excitement  and  exhaustion. 

"Well,  did  she  get  her  dress?  And  where  is  she  at?" 
Jennie  inquired. 

"No,  she  didn't  get  her  dress!"  breathed  Sadie,  taking 
off,  one  by  one,  her  veil,  gloves,  hat,  furs,  overshoes,  and 
coat.  "I  guess  she  didn't  have  an  intention  of  getting  a 
dress  when  she  started  out  with  me!  I  had  the  hardest 
time  to  get  her  to  even  look  at  their  things  at  Fahne- 
stock's.  She  seems  to  think,  Jennie,  that  New  Munich 
hasn't  anything  good  enough  for  her  to  wear ! " 

"Did  she  say  that?"  demanded  Jennie. 

"Well,  when  she  had  only  just  gave  a  careless  glance  at 
some  of  their  ready-made  evening  dresses,  she  shook  her 
head  and  said  to  me,  'There's  nothing  here;  I'll  have  to 
wait  until  I  go  to  Philadelphia  some  time.'  And  when  I 

[170] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

wanted  her,  then,  to  get  goods  and  take  it  to  Miss  Snyder, 
she  said  Fahnestock's  had  such  a  cheap,  poor  quality  of 
goods,  not  worth  making  up!" 

"Well,"  pronounced  Jennie,  "I  guess  if  our  New  Munich 
stores  are  good  enough  for  you  and  me,  they're  plenty  good 
enough  for  as  plain  a  dresser  as  what  she  is!  Our  clothes 
are  a  lot  dressier  than  hers !  The  idea ! " 

"Yes,  the  very  idea!" 

"And  after  Danny's  telling  her  he  wanted  her  to  have  a 
new  dress !  And  me  telling  her  that  her  dresses  that  she's 
got  give  us  all  a  shamed  face! " 

"All  she  got  new  for  herself,"  said  Sadie,  "was  another 
pah*  of  those  long  white  kid  gloves  at  four-fifty  a  pair. 
I  told  her  silk  ones  would  do  just  as  good,  and  them  you  can 
wash.  But  she  didn't  listen  to  me;  she  just  took  my  hand 
and  held  it  out  to  the  saleslady  and  told  her  to  measure 
it  and,"  added  Sadie,  a  veiled  pleasure  coming  into  her  eyes, 
"she  got  me  a  pair  of  long  white  kid  gloves,  too,  and  paid 
for  them  out  of  that  twenty-dollar  check  Danny  gave  her! " 

"Oh!"  cried  Jennie,  shocked,  "when  Danny  gave  it  to 
her  for  a  dress  yet!  What'll  he  say  anyhow?" 

"She  knows  he's  so  crazy  about  her,  she  don't  seem 
afraid  to  do  anything!"  said  Sadie. 

"He'll  soon  stop  giving  her  money  if  she  spends  it  on 
other  ones  instead  of  for  what  he  tells  her  to  buy ! " 

"Yes,  I  guess!  But  me — I  never  had  any  long  white 
kid  gloves  before,  Jennie!"  Sadie  could  not  repress  her 
beaming  pleasure.  "They'll  feel  grand,  I  guess." 

"Four-fifty  is  too  much  to  put  into  a  pair  of  gloves; 
your  white  silk  ones  would  do  plenty  good  enough." 

[1711 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"But  she  got  you  a  pair,  too,  Jennie!  Here  they  are," 
added  Sadie,  fumbling  among  her  packages  on  the  table. 
"She  asked  me  your  size  and  got  you  a  pair,  too." 

"I  won't  wear  them!  I'll  get  the  money  back  and  give 
it  to  Danny!"  declared  Jennie,  who,  according  to  her 
lights,  was  as  scrupulous  as  she  was  "close."  "It  ain't 
right  to  Danny  for  her  to  squander  his  money  like  that. 
My  gracious!  Thirteen-fifty  for  just  gloves!  You  ought 
to  take  yours  back,  too,  Sadie ! " 

"But  the  saleslady  tried  one  of  mine  on  and  stretched 
them,"  returned  Sadie,  not  very  regretfully.  "And  mind, 
Jennie,"  she  hastily  diverted  her  sister  from  her  suggestion, 
"mind  what  she  did  with  the  rest  part  of  the  twenty 
dollars!" 

"What?"  demanded  Jennie. 

"She  spent  every  cent  of  it  buying  presents  for  her 
sister's  children  in  Charleston!  When  I  told  her  Danny 
wouldn't  like  it  at  all  for  her  to  do  that,  she  said,  '  Oh,  but 
Daniel  loves  my  little  nephew  and  nieces;  he  will  be  glad 
to  have  me  send  them  something  from  us  both';  and  she 
put  in  the  package  a  card,  'From  Daniel  and  Margaret 
for  the  three  dearest  babies  in  the  world.'" 

"My  souls!"  Jennie  exclaimed.  "What '11  Danny  say 
yet — her  using  up  all  that  twenty  dollars  and  nothing  to 
show  for  it!" 

"Except  three  pairs  of  white  kid  gloves."  Sadie  shook 
her  head  pensively,  but  still  with  a  covert  gleam  of  pleas- 
ure in  her  own  share  of  the  "rake-off." 

"Well,"  said  Jennie  with  emphasis,  "I'll  certainly  give 
her  a  piece  of  my  mind!  Where  is  she  at? " 

[172] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"She  said  as  it  was  twelve  o'clock,  she'd  go  to  Danny's 
office  and  walk  home  with  him  for  dinner;  and  what  do 
you  think  she  gave  me  as  her  reason  for  doing  that?" 

"Well,  what?" 

"She  said  she  wanted  a  chance  to  see  that  Hamilton 
girl  again  that  works  for  our  Danny !  Did  you  ever  ? — when 
we  all  told  her  already  she  can't  associate  with  Danny's 
clerk!" 

"Well,  Sadie,"  said  Jennie  grimly,  "Margaret's  easy- 
going and  she  thinks  we're  the  same.  She'll  have  to  learn 
her  mistake,  that's  all.  She  ain't  going  to  run  with  that 
Hamilton  girl,  and  that's  all  there  is  to  it!  Enough  said!" 

"Och,  Jennie,  if  you'd  been  along  this  morning  you'd 
have  wondered  at  her  the  way  she  acts,  speaking  so  awful 
friendly  and  pleasant  to  the  girls  that  waited  on  us  in  the 
store  and  even  saying,  'Thank  you,  my  dear,'  to  a  little 
cash-girl!  Yes,  making  herself  that  familiar!  And  then 
when  Mrs.  Congressman  Ocksreider  come  along  through 
the  store  and  I  poked  Margaret  that  she  should  stop  and 
speak  to  her,  Margaret  just  nodded  and  walked  right 
a-past  her,  though  you  could  see  that  Mrs.  Ocksreider  was 
going  to  stop  and  talk  to  us!  And,  Jennie,  I  wanted  the 
store-girls  to  see  us  conversing  with  Mrs.  Ocksreider. 
I  would  have  stopped  and  talked  with  her  myself,  whether 
or  no,  but  she  looked  mad  and  sailed  right  a-past  me  the 
way  Margaret  had  sailed  a-past  her,  and  I  heard  two  girls 
at  the  button  counter  tittering  and  saying,  '  Did  you  ever 
get  left?'  I  was  so  cross  at  Margaret,  I  told  her,  'You 
hardly  spoke  to  her  and  she's  Mrs.  Congressman  Ocksrei- 
der and  worth  a  half  a  million  dollars!'  and  Margaret 

[173] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

answered  me,  *  I  didn't  think  she  was  worth  two  cents  any 
time  I've  talked  with  her.  But  if  she's  a  member  of  Con- 
gress! Why,  Sadie,  you  are  deceiving  me,  Pennsylvania 
is  not  yet  a  Suffrage  state!'  she  said,  and  I  told  her  I 
didn't  say  it  was  and  certainly  hoped  it  never  would  be. 
'But,'  I  said,  'that's  neither  here  nor  there,  whether 
Pennsylvania's  a  Suffrage  state!  What  7  wish  is  that  if 
you  have  to  cut  any  one,  let  it  be  cash-girls  and  not  our 
most  high-toned  lady-friends,'  I  said." 

"And  what,"  asked  Jennie,  "did  she  answer  to  that?" 

"She  said,  'Oh,  Sadie,  I  feel  quite  too  humble  to  want 
to  'cut*  any  one,  even  pretentious  people  like  your  Con- 
gressman's ordinary  little  wife!'  'Well,' I  said.  'You're 
got  no  need  to  feel  humble,  now  that  you're  married  to  our 
Danny!'  But,  Jennie,"  said  Sadie,  looking  bewildered, 
"think  of  calling  Mrs.  Ocksreider  'ordinary  little  wife!" 

"Well,  I  think!  It  was  enough  to  give  you  the  head- 
ache, Sadie,  such  a  morning  as  you've  had ! " 

"But  do  you  think,  mebby,"  Sadie  asked,  a  little  awe- 
struck, "that  Governors  are  higher  than  Congressmen — 
Margaret  thinking  herself  better  than  Mrs. Ocksreider  yet!" 

"It  would  look  that  way,"  said  Jennie,  also  impressed. 

"Here  she  and  Danny  come!"  Jennie  announced  at 
the  sound  of  the  opening  of  the  front  door.  "They're 
laughing;  so  I  guess  he  don't  know  yet  about  that  twenty 
dollars!" 

"And  I  guess  she  listened  to  me  after  all,"  added  Sadie, 
"about  going  in  there  to  his  office  and  acting  familiar  with 
Miss  Hamilton,  or  else  Danny  wouldn't  be  laughing  with 
her!" 

[1741 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

Had  they  known  what  had  really  taken  place  in  Daniel's 
office  while  they  had  been  sitting  here  discussing  Margaret 
(who,  to  tell  the  truth,  was  far  more  of  an  enigma  to  them 
than  they  were  to  her),  they  would  have  considered  Dan- 
iel's laughter,  just  now,  as  he  entered  the  house  with  her, 
to  be  nothing  short  of  lunacy. 

A  half-hour  earlier  Daniel,  on  returning  to  his  private 
office  from  a  tour  of  inspection  through  his  other  offices, 
had  heard,  to  his  surprise,  from  the  adjoining  room  where 
his  secretary  was  supposed  to  be  working,  her  voice  in 
earnest  conversation  with  some  one.  The  door  between 
his  room  and  hers  was  ajar  and  he  could  distinctly  hear 
what  she  was  saying,  the  character  of  which  was  so  far  re- 
moved from  any  phase  of  the  legal  business  of  his  office 
that  Daniel  was  dumbfounded.  It  was  sacrilege  to  intro- 
duce here  anything  that  did  not  pertain  strictly  to  the 
work  of  the  firm. 

"The  religious  introspection,"  Miss  Hamilton  was 
saying,  "so  widely  engendered  by  Emerson's  writings  in 
men  and  women  of  a  high  type,  has  come  to  seem  to  us,  in 
these  days,  rather  morbid;  we  consider  it  as  unwholesome, 
now,  to  think  too  much  about  our  spiritual,  as  about  our 
physical,  health.  Then,  too,  the  struggle  for  existence 
being  sharper,  people  have  less  time  to  sit  down  and  in- 
vestigate their  souls;  they've  got  to  keep  going,  or  be  left 
behind  in  the  race." 

"  In  their  effort  to  win  in  the  race,  however — what  they 
call  winning — they're  very  likely  to  lose  their  own  souls; 
and  'What  profiteth  it  a  man?'"  spoke  another  voice 
in  reply,  a  voice  that  brought  a  quick  flush  to  Daniel's 

[175] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

face;  a  flush  of  strangely  mingled  emotions:  of  anger  that 
she  was  here  with  his  secretary,  and  of  the  joy  with  which 
the  sound  of  her  voice,  the  mere  ripple  of  her  skirts,  never 
failed  to  thrill  him. 

"The  art  of  Mrs.  Humphry  Ward,"  Miss  Hamilton  was 
again  speaking  (he  had  missed  a  connecting  link  through 
the  shock  of  discovering  Margaret's  presence),  "has  been 
a  steady,  upward  growth  and  development:  every  novel 
produced  by  her  is  more  artistic  than  its  predecessor. 
But  though  her  art  is  now  at  its  climax,  she  is  no  longer 
read  as  she  used  to  be,  because  her  point  of  view  is  one 
that  the  world  has  passed  by;  the  women  of  her  books 
are  the  ideal  feminine  creations  of  fifty  years  ago  and 
they  don't  interest  us  any  longer.  Now  most  of  us  have 
not  yet  grown  up  to  Bernard  Shaw's  point  of  view,  yet 
we  are  nearer  to  him  than  to  Mrs.  Ward.  To  my  mind 
the  whole  feminist  problem  is  an  economic  one.  No  man 
or  woman  can  be  spiritually  free  who  is  economically 
dependent,  Emerson  and  Marcus  Aurelius  and  the  Christian 
Scientists  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding.  Even  the 
vote  isn't  going  to  help  women  until  they  make  up  their 
minds  to  'get  off  of  men's  backs,'  as  Charlotte  Perkins 
Gilman  says." 

"How  about  married  women  who  are  bearing  children?" 
asked  Margaret.  "They've  got  to  be  financially  depend- 
ent on  some  one." 

"  Since  the  state  does  not  support  women  who  are  giving 
citizens  to  it  and  who  are  thereby  disabled  from  self- 
support,  they  should  have  a  legal  right  over  a  fair  propor- 
tion of  their  husband's  income." 

[176] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"But  in  America  men  don't  need  to  be  coerced  by  laws 
to  treat  women  generously,"  suggested  Margaret. 

"That's  your  Southern  idea.  A  self-respecting  human 
being  does  not  want  generosity;  she  does  not  want  to 
stretch  out  her  hand  and  ask  for  what  she  needs.  It  is 
humiliating,  degrading.  Fancy  a  grown  woman  asking  a 
man,  'May  I  buy  a  hat  to-day?5  I'd  rather  take  in  stairs 
to  scrub ! " 

"Well,"  Margaret  returned,  "I  shall  educate  all  my 
daughters  to  professions,  because,  quite  apart  from  the 
economic  side  of  it,  women  become  such  drivelling  fools 
when  they  live  in  aimless  idleness,  when  they  have  no  defi- 
nite interest  in  life.  And  they  are  so  discontented  and 
restless.  An  occupation,  an  interest,  surely  makes  for  hap- 
piness and  for  a  higher  personal  development." 

"I  believe,"  said  Miss  Hamilton,  "that  a  mother  wrongs 
a  daughter,  just  as  much  as  she  would  wrong  a  son,  when 
she  fails  to  educate  her  for  a  self-supporting  occupation. 
Look  at  these  women  of  New  Munich  who  live  only  to 
kill  time — how  they  lack  the  personal  dignity,  the  char- 
acter, that  a  life  of  service,  of  producing,  gives  to  either 
man  or  woman!  Of  course  mere  work  doesn't  ennoble — 
beasts  of  burden  can  work — it's  work  that  vitally  interests 
us,  as  you  say,  and  that  we  love  for  its  own  sake,  that  is  the 
joy  and  health  of  any  soul." 

"Do  you  love  being  Mr.  Leitzel's  secretary  like  that?" 

"Of  course  not.  Being  Mr.  Leitzel's  secretary  is  two 
thirds  drudgery  and  only  one  third  humanly  interesting. 
I'm  threatening  to  take  to  the  platform  to  expound  the 
Truth  that  women  who  have  to  support  themselves  are 

[177] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

invariably  overworked,  while  women  who  live  on  men 
haven't  enough  to  do  to  keep  them  wholesome.  Middle- 
aged  married  women,  for  instance,  whose  children  are 
grown  up,  go  almost  insane  for  want  of  an  interest  in  life. 
No  wonder  human  creatures  so  situated  grow  fretful  and 
petty  and  small-souled." 

"Perhaps  the  window-smashing  Suffragette  is  only 
reacting  from  too  long  want  of  occupation,"  suggested 
Margaret.  "The  emptiness  of  her  life  makes  her  hyster- 
ical and  she  shrieks  with  rage  and  throws  things!  But, 
my  dear,  why  do  you,  clever  as  you  are,  remain  in  a  po- 
sition that  is  two  thirds  drudgery?  Drudgery  is  for  dull 
people,  who  of  course  prefer  it  to  work  that  would  tax  them 
to  think." 

"It  is  a  stepping-stone  for  me  to  the  bigger  work  I  shall 
some  day  do,  Mrs.  Leitzel." 

"What  is  that?" 

"Something  splendid!"  Miss  Hamilton  responded  in  a 
voice  of  quite  girlish  delight.  "Something  in  which  you 
shall  have  a  share,  if  you  will,  a  very  big  share!  I'll  tell 
you  all  about  it  one  of  these  days.  We  haven't  time  now. 
It's  lunch  time  and  I  have  only  a  half-hour." 

"  When  can  we  get  together  again?  "  Margaret  eagerly 
asked.  "  I  am  just  living  for  these  times  with  you ! " 

"And  you  must  know,"  responded  Miss  Hamilton  with 
feeling,  "what  they  mean  to  me,  starved  as  I've  been  for 
companionship  in  a  place  like  New  Munich!  Well,  I'm 
free  every  evening.  And  we  could  take  walks  any  after- 
noon between  five  and  seven  that  you  were  not  engaged." 

"Then  as  soon  as  people  have  finished  giving  parties  in 
[178] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

my  honour,  I  shall  be  free  to  be  with  you  as  much  as  you'll 
let  me  be,  Miss  Hamilton.  I  shan't  have  to  go  to  parties 
that  are  not  given  specially  for  me." 

"Of  course  not.  You  couldn't  keep  it  up.  For  a 
woman  like  you  it  would  be  too  deadly." 

This,  to  Daniel,  was  a  new  and  upsetting  point  of  view; 
he  was  so  sure  that  all  women  in  Miss  Hamilton's  position 
were  envious  of  the  social  rioting  of  women  placed  as  his 
wife  was.  And  here  was  Margaret  planning  to  discard 
"society"  for  evenings  and  rambles  with  his  stenographer! 
As  if  Miss  Hamilton  were  not  uppish  enough  already  from 
her  constant  offers  of  higher  salaries!  Why,  even  as  it 
was,  he  could  hardly  put  up  with  her  air  of  independence; 
and  if  he  permitted  his  wife  to  take  her  up  as  an  intimate 
friend — well,  of  course  he  would  have  to  emphatically 
put  a  stop  to  the  thing.  -He  thought  he  had  expressed 
himself  definitely  enough  to  Margaret  last  Saturday  while 
they  were  automobiling,  but  evidently  he  had  not. 

"I'll  make  myself  unmistakably  clear  this  time!"  he 
resolved.  "I'll  let  Margaret  know  that  I  am  not  accus- 
tomed to  having  my  wishes  set  aside  as  of  no  importance!" 


[179 


XV 


TEN  minutes  later  he  and  Margaret  sat  facing  each 
other  from  either  side  of  his  flat-topped  office- 
desk. 

Miss  Hamilton's  conscience-clear  self-possession  as  she 
had  passed  through  his  office  to  go  to  her  luncheon,  and 
his  wife's  equally  guiltless  aspect  as  she  had  greeted  him 
with  cheerful  affection,  had  been  a  little  disarming,  it  is 
true,  to  his  determined  purpose.  But  Daniel  was  not 
readily  diverted  from  a  line  he  had  decided  upon,  and 
Margaret's  easy  indifference  to  his  expressed  wish  as  to 
her  associating  with  Miss  Hamilton  had  aroused  his  ob- 
stinacy. And  Daniel's  obstinacy  was  a  snag  to  be  reckoned 
with. 

So,  seated  opposite  her  at  his  desk,  he  had  expounded 
to  her  very  forcibly  his  reasons  for  prohibiting  any  social 
relations  whatever  with  any  one  of  his  office  staff. 

"And  now,"  he  concluded  his  harangue,  "Hay  my  com- 
mand upon  you,  my  dear." 

"Oh,  but,  my  dear!"  laughed  Margaret,  "that's  rather 
absurd,  you  know!  Now  listen,  Daniel.  If  you  warned 
me  against  Miss  Hamilton  as  a  person  who  was  immoral 
or  illiterate  or  ill-bred,  I  should  of  course  see  the  reason- 
ableness of  your  objection  to  her.  But  when  she  is  really 
superior  in  every  respect  to  every  one  of  the  people  you 

[180] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

do  want  me  to  be  intimate  with:  better  born,  better  bred, 
more  intelligent;  when  my  intimacy  with  her  is  going  to 
mean  to  me  more  than  I  have  words  to  express — a  close 
friendship  with  a  congenial  and  stimulating  mind  and 
character — you  can't  expect  me  to  give  it  up  for  such 
reasons  as  you  offer  me,  Daniel,  chief  among  them  being 
that  she  works  for  her  living.  But  in  the  South  we  are 
so  used,  since  the  war,  to  seeing  gentlewomen  work  for 
their  living,  and  we  are  so  unused  to  meeting,  socially, 
people  like  the  Ocksreiders  and  the  Millers,  who  tell  me 
(one  of  them  did)  that  her  house  is  '  het  by  steam'  and  who 
say,  'Outen  the  light' — well,  dear,  you  see,"  she  concluded, 
rising,  "it  is  ridiculous  to  discuss  it.  Let  us  go  home  to 
luncheon." 

"Sit  down,  Margaret." 

"But  I'm  famishing,  Daniel.  I'm  weak  with  hunger. 
You'll  have  to  take  me  home  in  a  taxicab  if  you  don't 
take  me  soon." 

"Sit  down!  You've  got  to  promise  to  obey  me  in  this 
matter,  Margaret." 

"Oh!"  her  voice  rippled  with  laughter,  "this  is  the  twen- 
tieth century  A.  D.,  not  B.  C.,  Daniel.  You're  mixed  in 
your  dates!  And  you  seem  to  forget  you  married  me, 
you  didn't  adopt  me." 

"You  must  drop  at  once  any  further  relations  with  my 
secretary." 

"But,  dear,"  she  exclaimed  in  surprise,  "haven't  I  yet 
made  it  clear  to  you  that  I  don't  intend  to?" 

"I  am  accustomed  to  being  obeyed,  Margaret!" 

"  By  whom  ?    Your  wives  ?  " 

[181] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"Come,  come,  I  want  your  promise.' 

"Daniel,"  she  plead  with  him,  "please  don't  be  so  tire- 
some! I  am  sure  that  you,  clever  lawyer  that  you  are, 
must  recognize  that  my  position  is  quite  impregnable  and 
yours  weak  and  indefensible,  asking  me  to  be  friends  with 
people  who  'outen  the  light'  and  to  cut  one  with  whom  I 
can  have  such  improving  conversations  as  that  to  which 
you  ignominiously  listened  just  now!  Why  didn't  you 
honourably  close  your  door?  Could  you  understand  our 
deep  remarks,  Daniel?" 

"I'm  waiting  for  your  promise,  Margaret." 

Again  Margaret  rose.  "I'm  hungry  and  I'm  going 
home." 

"Margaret,"  said  Daniel  incredulously,  "surely  you  are 
not  deliberately  refusing  what  I  ask  of  you?" 

"As  surely  as  I'd  refuse  to  walk  a  tight-rope  at  your 
behest,  my  lord." 

"You  defy  me?"  he  asked  quietly,  his  lips  white. 

It  was  her  turn,  now,  to  look  incredulous.  "But, 
Daniel,  how  can  you  take  it  to  heart  like  this?  How  can 
you  suppose  yourself  better  qualified  than  I  am  to  choose 
my  friends?  Next  thing,"  she  laughed,  "you'll  be  telling 
me  what  books  I  may  not  read!" 

"Do  you  intend  to  obey  me? " 

"I  hope  I  know  my  wifely  duty  too  well  to  spoil  you, 
my  dear.  'Obey'  you  indeed!"  She  tweaked  the  tip  of 
his  nose  derisively. 

"  You  will  obey  me,  Margaret,  or "  He  paused  help- 
lessly. 

"Obey  me!"  she  mocked  him,  "or  die,  woman!  Well, 
[182] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

Daniel,  if  it  comes  to  force" — she  looked  at  her  pink  finger 
nails — "I  can  scratch!" 

She  suddenly  bent  and  kissed  his  forehead.  "Do  come 
home ! " 

"When  I've  had  your  promise." 

"Daniel,  a  woman  in  these  days  who  'obeys'  her  hus- 
band ought  to  be  ostracized,  or  arrested  and  confined  in  an 
institution  for  dangerous  lunatics!" 

Daniel  looked  at  her  meditatively.  "I'm  certainly  up 
against  it!"  he  was  saying  to  himself.  "I  could  be  firm 
against  tears  or  temper;  but  when  she  just  jokes  about  it 
and  laughs  at  me  and  goes  on  doing  as  she  pleases,  what 
can  I  do  with  her?" 

"Margaret,"  he  said,  "I've  never  quarrelled  with  any 
one  in  my  life,  but,"  he  added,  a  little  icy  gleam  in  his 
eyes  that  did  chill  her  for  the  moment,  "I've  always  had 
my  own  way  /" 

"Which  has,  of  course,  been  dreadfully  bad  for  you. 
It's  well  you've  married  a  wife  that  is  going  to  be  very  firm 
with  you!" 

Daniel  bit  his  lip  to  keep  from  laughing.  Not  for  an 
instant  did  he  think  of  yielding.  The  difficulty  of  the 
situation  served  only  to  aggravate  his  obstinacy.  There 
was  more  than  one  way  of  getting  a  thing,  and  Daniel 
was  not  at  all  above  resorting  to  cunning.  Hah7  the  suc- 
cesses of  his  career  had  been  the  result  of  his  cunning.  He 
did  not  call  it  that;  he  named  it  subtlety,  far-sightedness. 

"I  want  to  ask  you  something,  Margaret;  sit  down." 

She  sighed  and  dropped  again  into  the  chair  opposite 
him. 

[183] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"You  bought  your  new  dress — frock — gown,  this 
morning?" 

She  shook  her  head,  too  weary  and  hungry  to  speak. 

"You  didn't?" 

"I  told  you  I  didn't  intend  to  get  anything." 

"But  we  all  told  you  to!    I  wish  you  to!" 

"Can't  get  anything  in  New  Munich.  Don't  suppose 
you'd  want  me  to  go  to  Philadelphia  or  Lancaster  just  now, 
for  a  gown,  with  the  expense  of  the  party  on  your  hands?" 

"That  would  be  an  unnecessary  extravagance." 

"I  shall  buy  no  clothes  in  this  village  while  I  have  what 
I  have." 

"And  that  twenty  dollars  I  gave  you?" 

"What  about  it?" 

"I  gave  it  to  you  for  a  gown." 

"7  know  you  did.  But  I  told  you  last  Saturday  I 
didn't  want  one." 

"Did  you  cash  the  check? " 

"Yes." 

"Where  is  the  money?" 

"Spent." 

"  What !     Spent  for  what  f  " 

"Oh,  Daniel,  you  busybody  I  Well,  it  was  spent  for  kid 
gloves  and  presents  for  Hattie's  babies  from  you  and  me. 
We  needed  the  gloves;  I  didn't  need  a  gown;  you  seemed 
anxious  to  have  me  squander  twenty  dollars,  so  I  sent  six 
dollars'  worth  of  things  to  the  babies  in  Charleston." 

"Without  consulting  me!" 

"But  there  was  nothing  to  consult  about.  And  you 
seemed  so  determined  to  have  me  spend  twenty  dollars." 

[184] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"For  a  frock." 

Margaret  flopped  her  head  wearily  on  her  hand  and  did 
not  answer. 

"You  say  'we'  needed  the  gloves.  Did  you  buy  me 
some?  I  don't  need  any." 

"I  bought  some  for  Jennie  and  Sadie,"  she  answered 
mechanically. 

Daniel's  face  turned  red.  "What  did  you  spend  on 
them?" 

"  I  don't  know — twice  four-fifty.     You  multiply  it." 

"Nine  dollars  for  gloves  for  them!  Good  heavens! 
But,  Margaret,  they  have  their  own  money." 

"That's  nice  of  them — I  mean  for  them.  Ah,  Daniel, 
won't  you  come  home?" 

"The  time  has  come,  Margaret,  when  you  and  I  must 
come  to  an  understanding  about  your — your  income." 

"Won't  it  do  after  dinner? " 

"It  is  a  matter  for  private  discussion  and  we  are  here 
alone  now.  Let  us  settle  it.  In  the  first  place,"  he 
said  impressively,  "it  is  time  that  I  took  over  the  man- 
agement of  your  finances.  Does  Walter  have  them  in 
charge?" 

"Daniel,"  said  Margaret  gravely,  a  faint  colour  coming 
to  her  cheeks,  "Walter  surely  did  not  give  you  to  under- 
stand that  7  had  any  money?" 

"No.     You  did." 

"I?    How?" 

"You  said  you  were  one  of  your  uncle's  heirs." 

"Only  to  the  old  homestead,  Berkeley  Hill.  Nothing 
else." 

[185] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

They  looked  at  each  other  across  the  table,  Daniel's 
small,  keen  eyes  meeting  steadily  her  faintly  troubled 
ones. 

"Did  you  think  I  had  money,  Daniel?" 

"What  is  the  homestead  supposed  to  be  worth  and  how 
many  heirs  are  there?  " 

"Hattie  and  I  own  it.  I  don't  know  what  it  is  worth. 
It  is  awfully  out  of  repair,  you  know." 

"But  Walter  pays  you  rent,  of  course,  for  your  share  in 
it?" 

"Oh,  no,  he  couldn't  afford  to." 

"Couldn't  afford  to?  When  they  live  like  millionaires! 
Oriental  rugs,  a  butler  to  wait  on  the  table,  solid  silver, 
and  expensive  china — anyway,  it  looked  expensive.  And 
they  can't  afford  to  pay  you  rent?  " 

"All  those  things  were  inherited,  Daniel,  along  with  the 
place,  the  butler  included." 

"Then  you  own  those  rugs  and  that  silver  and  china?" 

"Jointly  with  my  sister,  yes." 

"But  that's  property,  Margaret.  How,  then,  are  you 
receiving  your  share?" 

"I'm  not  receiving  it." 

"Why  not?  I  hate  that  slipshod  Southern  way  of 
doing  business!  You  ought,  of  course,  to  be  drawing  an 
income  from  your  half  of  that  place." 

"But  it  yields  no  income." 

"Isn't  any  of  the  land  cultivated?" 

"The  land  consists  of  two  square  miles  of  woodland 
about  the  house.  Walter  says  the  place,  as  it  is,  couldn't 
even  be  rented;  and  none  of  us  have  any  money  to  spend 

[1861 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

in  fixing  it  up;  so  there  you  are.  It's  a  home  for  Hattie's 
family,  that's  all." 

"  Gracious ! " 

"Is  it  a  shock  to  you  to  find  me  penniless?"  asked 
Margaret  gravely.  "Wouldn't  you  have  married  me  if 
you  had  known?" 

She  was  acutely  conscious  of  the  fact  that  since  she  had 
married  him  for  a  home,  she  certainly  could  not  judge  him 
very  critically  if  he  had  married  her  for  a  supposed  fortune. 

Daniel  looked  at  her  speculatively.  Would  he  have 
married  her  if  he  had  known?  Well,  he  was  pretty  cer- 
tain that  he  would  have;  that  at  that  time,  incredible  as 
it  might  seem,  her  charm  for  him  outmeasured  any  dower 
a  wife  might  have  brought  him.  But  now?  Did  he  rue 
his  "blind  and  headlong"  (so  he  considered  it)  yielding 
to  her  fascination? 

His  eyes  swept  over  her  appraisingly,  over  her  dark 
hair,  her  soft  dark  eyes,  the  curve  of  her  red  lips,  her 
broad,  boyish  shoulders,  her  fine  hands  clasped  on  the  top 
of  the  desk,  and  he  knew  that  he  adored  her.  Not  even 
in  the  face  of  the  shock  he  felt  at  learning  of  her  penniless- 
ness,  and  on  the  head  of  her  audacious  defiance  of  his 
wishes,  could  he  regret  for  an  instant  that  she  was  his — 
his  very  own.  And  it  suddenly  came  to  him,  with  a  force 
that  sent  the  blood  to  his  face,  that  her  being  compara- 
tively penniless  (for  of  course  he'd  insist  on  getting  some- 
thing out  of  that  Berkeley  Hill  estate),  her  present  ab- 
solute dependence  upon  him  made  her  all  the  more  his 
own,  his  property,  subject  to  his  will.  If  she  were  penni- 
less, he  held  her  in  his  power.  It  was  with  the  primitive 

[187] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

instinct  of  a  savage  that  he  gloated  over  his  possession,  the 
most  precious  of  all  his  possessions. 

"I  shall  teach  her  this  much  about  the  value  of  money 
(of  which  she  seems  as  ignorant  as  a  child) :  that  the  price 
of  her  board  and  clothing  is  obedience  to  me ! " 

"Yes,  Margaret,"  he  at  length  replied,  "I  would  have 
married  you  if  I  had  known  you  were  penniless.  I  mar- 
ried you  because  I  loved  you." 

She  did  not  tell  him  that  there  he  had  the  advantage 
of  her.  She  envied  him  his  clear  conscience  in  the  mat- 
ter. A  shade  of  respect  for  him  came  into  her  counte- 
nance as  she  looked  at  him,  a  respect  she  could  not  feel  for 
herself  on  the  same  score. 

He  took  a  small  blank  book  from  his  desk  and  a  crisp 
ten-dollar  bill  from  his  purse  and  laid  them  before  her. 

"This  is  the  first  of  the  month,  I  shall  give  you  ten 
dollars  a  month  for  pocket  money,  and  you  will  keep  an 
account  of  your  expenditures  in  this  book  and  show  it  to 
me  at  the  first  of  each  month.  Anything  you  need  to 
buy  which  this  allowance  won't  cover  you  can  ask  me 
about.  You  seem  to  know  nothing  of  the  value  of  money, 
and  it's  time  you  learned.  I  can't  trust  you  with  more 
than  a  small  sum,  since  you  at  once  go  off  and  squander  it 
on  other  people  instead  of  spending  it  for  yourself — or 
for  what  you  were  told  to  spend  it  for.  No  more  of  that, 
my  dear!  Your  allowance  is  for  your  own  needs.  When 
you  want  to  make  gifts,  you  consult  me." 

She  dropped  the  money  into  her  bag,  but  she  did  not 
pick  up  the  blank  book. 

Daniel  took  it  up  and  held  it  out  to  her.  She  hesitated, 
[188] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

but  dreading  further  discussion  with  him  if  she  informed 
him  that  she  had  no  intention  of  accounting  to  him,  like 
a  school-girl,  for  her  use  of  ten  dollars  a  month,  she  tucked 
the  book  also  into  her  bag. 

"You  must  sign  over  to  me  the  power  of  attorney  to 
collect  rent  from  your  brother-in-law  for  your  half  of  that 
estate.  I  shall  look  into  the  matter,  and  if  I  feel  that  the 
property  justifies  it,  I'll  expend  some  money  on  it,  and 
then  we  can  rent  it  at  a  high  rate,  too  high,  probably,  for 
Walter's  means.  He'll  have  to  move  out  and  live  else- 
where." 

Again  she  did  not  contradict  him,  while  she  privately 
determined  to  write  to  Walter  herself  that  very  day  and 
warn  him  that  she  was  not  a  party  to  any  suggestions 
which  Daniel  might  make  as  to  Berkeley  Hill. 

And  Daniel  was  privately  telling  himself  that  it  would 
not  be  any  time  at  all  before  he  would  contrive  to  get  over 
into  his  own  hands  that  entire  estate. 

"Also,"  he  said  to  her,  "I  shall  claim  for  you  one  half  of 
all  the  contents  of  the  house,  the  books,  pictures,  china, 
silver,  furniture " 

"Butler,"  inserted  Margaret. 

"Well,  we'll  leave  them  the  butler,"  grinned  Daniel. 
"He  appeared  to  be  more  out  of  repair  than  anything  else 
on  the  place." 

The  bare  suggestion  of  bringing  their  family  heirlooms 
into  such  a  setting  as  that  of  Daniel's  New  Munich  house 
seemed  to  Margaret  like  horrible  sacrilege. 

"I'd  like  to  see  anybody  make  Harriet  strip  Berkeley 
Hill  of  half  its  belongings!"  she  smiled. 

f  189] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"But  if  half  its  belongings  are  yours?" 

"  Uncle  Osmond  never  meant  them  to  be  taken  from  the 
old  home." 

"His  will  doesn't  say  so,  does  it?  " 

"Of  course  not.  He  gave  us  credit  for  a  few  decent 
feelings." 

Daniel  regarded  her  in  perplexity.  How  was  it  that 
she  could  weakly  let  herself  be  so  absurdly  imposed  upon 
by  her  sister  and  brother-in-law  as  to  her  own  property, 
all  she  had  in  the  world,  and  yet,  when  it  came  to  a  matter 
like  this  of  his  secretary,  be  so  hard  to  manage  by  a  man 
of  his  resolution? 

"He  gave  you  credit,  too,  it  seems,  for  having  no  busi- 
ness sense.  Well,  fortunately  for  you,  you've  got  me 
to  take  care  of  that  end  for  you  now.  I'll  make  that 
estate  yield  something  to  your  sister's  advantage  as  well 
as  yours.  And  now,"  he  concluded,  rising,  slipping  into 
his  overcoat,  and  picking  up  his  hat,  "just  one  more  word: 
understand,  my  dear,  that  when  you  act  like  a  naughty, 
disobedient,  small  girl" — he  punctuated  his  words  by 
tapping  her  shoulder  with  his  derby — "you  will  be  treated 
like  one  and  have  your  allowance  cut  off.  Eh?  So  I  trust 
we'll  hear  no  more  of  this  nonsense  about  my  secretary." 

"I  trust  so,  too." 

"Good!" 

"But,"  added  Margaret  as  they  went  forth  together  to 
the  street,  "  I  don't  just  see  how  you're  going  to  get  out  of 
supporting  your  legal  wife,  so  long  as  I  consent  to  let  you 
support  me." 

"You  'consent'  to  let  me?  Now  what  do  you  mean  by 
[190] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

that  nonsense?  Some  of  that  'Feminist'  talk,  is  it,  that 
Miss  Hamilton  was  trying  to  stuff  you  with?" 

"Never  mind,"  said  Margaret.  "I  won't  explain  what 
I  mean,  for  if  I  do,  you'll  begin  to  argue  with  me;  and  I 
refuse  to  argue  any  more  about  anything  until  I  have  had 
a  good,  square  meal." 

And  so  it  was  that  in  spite  of  the  revelations  of  the  past 
hour  in  Daniel's  office,  and  the  talk  so  illuminating  to  them 
both,  Jennie  and  Sadie  had  the  surprise  of  hearing  them 
come  into  the  house  together,  laughing  and  talking  as 
though  nothing  whatever  had  occurred  to  call  for  their 
brother's  solemn  displeasure  with  his  heedless  and  ir- 
responsible wife. 


[191] 


XVI 


MARGARET  did  not,  of  course,  think  for  an  in- 
stant of  giving  up  her  friendship  with  Catherine 
Hamilton;  but  when  she  suggested  the  Ham- 
ilton family  and  a  few  other  people  whom  she  liked,  but 
whose  names  were  not  on  the  invitation  list,  be  invited  to 
their  big  reception,  she  met  with  an  opposition  to  which  she 
was  obliged  to  yield. 

"To  invite,  such  folks  as  those  Hamiltons,  that  don't 
even  own  their  own  home,  little  as  it  is — well,  it  would  just 
lower  the  tone  of  the  party,  that's  all!"  Jennie  pronounced. 

"But  I'll  be  responsible  for  keeping  up  the  tone  of  the 
party ! "  Margaret  gayly  volunteered. 

She  quickly  recognized,  however,  that  in  a  matter  like 
this,  cooperation  or  compromise  between  the  Leitzels  and 
her  was  impossible  and  that  she  must  stand  aside  and  let 
them  give  their  party  in  their  own  way.  She  carried  her 
self -obliteration  so  far  as  to  even  refrain  from  suggesting, 
on  the  auspicious  day  of  the  party,  the  removal  from 
the  dining-room  sideboard  of  the  life-sized,  navy-blue 
glass  owl  which  was  a  water  pitcher,  and  the  two  orange- 
coloured  glass  dishes  that  stood  on  easels  on  either  side  of 
the  owl. 

She  did  spend  rather  a  troubled  half -hour  in  wondering 
how,  since  the  invitations  were  of  course  in  her  name  and 

[192] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

Daniel's,  Catherine  Hamilton  would  regard  the  fact  that 
she  was  not  invited.  But  the  absurdity  of  the  Leitzels* 
delusion  that  they  could  withhold  or  bestow  social  rec- 
ognition upon  her  friend  must  be  so  manifest  to  Catherine 
that  surely  she  could  not  take  it  seriously.  It  seemed  to 
Margaret  that  to  let  this  trifling,  vulgar  episode  cast  even 
a  shadow  upon  the  ideal  friendship  into  which  she  and 
Catherine  were  growing  was  to  belittle  and  dishonour  it. 

"I  can't  offer  her  any  explanation.  I  can  only  trust  to 
her  large-minded  understanding  of  my  situation." 

She  had  an  uncomfortable  consciousness  that  it  was  a 
situation  which  Catherine  herself  would  not  have  tolerated. 

"Even  'Hiram's  Lizzie'  considers  it  unbearable,"  she 
reflected.  "Why,  I  can't  offer  any  least  hospitality  to 
any  one  unless  my  sisters-in-law  approve  of  the  individual ! 
I  can't  ask  Catherine  Hamilton  to  dine  or  lunch  with  me! 
Which  means,  of  course,  that  I  can't  accept  her  hospital- 
ity. It's  rather  grotesque!" 

Yet  when  she  considered  how  devotedly  Daniel's  sisters 
served  him,  how  minutely  they  attended  to  every  little 
detail  of  his  comfort,  in  a  way  most  men,  she  was  sure, 
would  have  found  harassing,  but  which  to  Daniel  seemed 
essential  to  his  well-being,  she  knew  that  he  would  never 
be  able,  without  great  misery,  to  live  apart  from  them, 
and  that  he  certainly  would  not  entertain  the  idea  for  a 
moment. 

"And  as  for  them,  their  occupation,  their  purpose  in 
life,  would  be  taken  from  them,  if  they  didn't  have  Daniel 
to  fuss  over." 

Two  days  before  the  date  of  the  reception  the  evening 

[193] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

papers  gave  New  Munich  a  lurid  description,  furnished 
by  Jennie  and  Daniel,  of  every  detail  of  it,  the  Philadelphia 
caterer  and  the  Lancaster  florist  being  advertised  in  head- 
lines that  made  Margaret's  flesh  creep.  She  had  a  vision 
of  the  consternation  of  her  Charleston  relatives  should 
they  ever  see  that  paper,  and  she  was  thankful  that  the 
distance  that  separated  her  from  them  precluded  the  pos- 
sibility of  their  learning  of  her  association  with  such  blatant 
vulgarity — unless  (awful  thought!)  Daniel  should  be 
visited  with  the  idea  of  mailing  them  a  marked  copy ! 

When,  the  next  afternoon,  Margaret  was  out  for  a 
country  walk  with  Catherine  Hamilton  after  office  hours, 
she  decided  that  it  would  be  better  to  refer  casually  to  the 
prospective  party,  rather  than  so  obviously  avoid  men- 
tioning it. 

"Fancy  me  to-morrow  night,  Catherine,  lined  up  with 
Mr.  Leitzel  and  his  sisters  for  two  or  three  hours  to  shake 
hands  with  over  one  hundred  people  and  make  to  each  one 
precisely  the  same  inspired  remark:  'Mrs.  Blank,  how 
do  you  do?  I  am  glad  to  see  you.  I  am  so  glad  you  got 
here!'  If  I  could  only  vary  it  a  bit !  But  no,  I  shall  have 
to  say  those  self -same  words  exactly  one  hundred  and  seven 
times.  Isn't  it  deplorable?  " 

A  faint  tremor  in  her  voice  as  she  asked  the  question 
caused  her  friend  to  turn  and  look  into  her  face;  and  some- 
thing in  the  strained  expression  of  the  beautiful  eyes  which 
Catherine  Hamilton  was  growing  to  love  moved  this 
rather  austere  young  woman  to  a  sudden  pity;  for  Cather- 
ine, though  a  girl  of  keen  wit  and  of  a  strong,  independent 
spirit,  was  full  of  feeling;  a  combination  of  qualities  which 

[1941 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

gave  her  a  charm  for  those  of  her  own  sex  that  she  did  not 
have  for  men. 

Obeying  an  impulse  of  her  heart,  she  suddenly  stopped 
in  the  woodsy  path  where  they  walked,  put  her  arms 
around  Margaret  and  clasped  her  close. 

And  Margaret,  at  the  unexpected  touch  of  understand- 
ing love,  almost  the  first  she  had  ever  known  in  her  life, 
held  herself  rigid  in  her  friend's  embrace  that  she  might 
not  burst  into  passionate  crying,  while  she  clenched  her 
teeth  to  choke  down  the  pent-up  emotion  which  in  this 
moment  could  hardly  keep  its  bounds. 

She  released  herself  quickly,  and  for  an  instant  turned 
away. 

When  she  again  spoke,  her  voice  was  even  and  natural. 
She  had  not  let  herself  shed  one  betraying  tear. 

"You  promised  to  tell  me,  Catherine,  about  that  career 
of  yours,  you  know,  to  which  your  present  work  is  a  step- 
ping-stone, and  what  my  part  is  to  be  in  it." 

Catherine,  eager  to  launch  forth  upon  her  hobby  to  her 
new  friend,  glowed  with  enthusiasm  as  she  talked. 

"I  have  come  from  a  race,  Margaret,  that  for  genera- 
tions have  been  teachers,  college  professors,  ministers, 
public  school  superintendents — the  pedagogue  seems  to  be 
born  in  every  one  of  us.  And  it's  in  me  strong.  So  I  am 
going  to  devote  my  life  to  the  establishing  of  a  school  for 
girls  in  which  all  the  training  shall  converge  to  one  ideal 
— that  of  service — as  over  against  that  of  the  usual  finish- 
ing school,  whatever  that  ideal  is!  And,  Margaret,  here's 
my  point:  I'm  going  to  make  my  school  fashionable,  a 
formidable  rival  of  those  futile,  idiotic  institutions  in 

[195] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

which  girls  from  the  country  are  taught  how  they  must 
enter  a  drawing-room  or  step  into  an  automobile,  and  are 
quite  incidentally  instructed,  cautiously  and  delicately, 
in  every  'branch'  in  the  whole  category  of  learning,  so 
that  they  may  be  able  to  'converse'  on  any  subject  what- 
ever without  betraying  the  awful  depths  of  their  ignorance ! 
— the  vast  expanse  of  their  shallowness.  My  school  shall 
teach  girls  that  life  is  meant  for  earnest  work,  because 
work  means  physical  and  spiritual  health  and  happiness. 
My  school  shall  make  girls  ashamed  to  admit  they've 
ever  been  to  the  other  sort  of  'finishing'  school.  It's 
going  to  put  that  sort  of  school  out  of  business,  Margaret ! 
I  tell  you,  the  coming  woman  is  going  to  be  the  efficient 
woman.  The  unqualified  of  our  sex  will  take  a  back  seat, 
just  as  unqualified  men  do." 

"I'm  of  course  entirely  in  sympathy  with  your  idea, 
Catherine,  but  I  hope  your  'service'  education  includes 
home-making  and  motherhood.  Leave  us  a  few  of  the 
old-fashioned  women,  won't  you?" 

"My  dear,  don't  worry  about  homes  and  husbands  and 
babies.  It  is  the  futile  fashionable  woman,  not  the  dis- 
ciplined, thoughtful,  college-bred  woman,  that  refuses  to 
have  children.  I've  never  known  an  earnest  woman  that 
didn't  love  children  and  yearn  for  motherhood.  The 
trouble  is,  men  are  afraid  of  the  earnest  kind.  They 
marry  the  frivolous,  parasitical  women,  who  live  upon 
them  like  lotus  flowers,  sapping  their  vitality  and  giving 
nothing  in  return.  Yet  you'll  find  men  opposing  college 
education  for  women,  not  realizing  that  a  woman  who  has 
stood  the  discipline  of  a  college  course  has  developed  a 

[196] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

force  of  character  that  does  not  shrink  for  a  moment  from 
the  further  discipline  and  burden  of  motherhood,  but  wel- 
comes it  as  her  privilege  and  blessing,  while  the  so-called 
'society  woman'  will  none  of  it.  You  know,"  Catherine 
continued,  "in  the  days  when  home-making  was  neces- 
sarily an  absorbing  occupation,  it  lent  to  women  a  dignity 
of  character  quite  wanting  in  our  present-day  large  class 
of  feminine  parasites,  a  class  that  has  grown  out  of  the 
new  and  easier  domestic  conditions  and  the  too-great 
concentration  of  wealth  in  the  hands  of  a  few.  That's 
the  explanation  of  woman's  latter-day  restlessness;  she's 
fighting  against  the  deterioration  which  comes  with  idle- 
ness and  too-easy  conditions  of  life.  She's  fighting  for 
her  very  life!  That's  what  the  'feminist  movement* 
means." 

"And  my  part  in  your  fine  scheme?"  asked  Margaret, 
her  face  glowing  with  responsive  enthusiasm. 

"As  a  rich  and  influential  woman,  you  will  countenance 
and  patronize  my  school;  perhaps  send  me  your  daughters; 
be  a  stock-holder  in  it;  you  can  even  be  fitting  yourself, 
meantime,  if  you  like,  to  be  a  teacher  in  it." 

"But,  Catherine— 'rich  and  influential?*  I?  I  am  nei- 
ther!" 

Catherine  looked  at  her  curiously.  "What  do  you  call 
'rich,' Margaret?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  I've  never  handled  money  in  my 
life.  I've  always  had  everything  I  actually  required  right 
at  my  hand.  I  am  afraid  I  am  absurdly  ignorant  about 
money.  I  never  had  any  of  my  own." 

As  Margaret  spoke,  she  glanced  up  to  meet  in  Cather- 
1197] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

ine's  eyes  a  puzzled,  questioning  expression  which  she 
failed  to  interpret. 

"But  surely  you  know  that  Mr.  Leitzel  is  very  rich?" 
said  Catherine. 

"It  is  such  a  relative  term.  My  sister's  family  think 
themselves  awfully  poor,  but  they  live  more  comfortably 
and  spend  money  more  freely  than  the  Leitzels  do.  Of 
course  I  understand  that  you  Northerners  are  all  more 
frugal  than  Southerners  are,"  she  ended  vaguely. 

Catherine  laughed  oddly.     "You  are  an  innocent!" 

"I'm  beginning  to  realize  that  I  am,"  nodded  Margaret, 
feeling  a  something  behind  Catherine's  tone  and  counte- 
nance that  she  did  not  quite  get. 

"  I  might  have  been  reared  in  a  convent  for  all  I've  seen 
of  life,  Catherine." 

"Yet  you've  not  lacked  the  essentials,"  returned  Cather- 
ine with  evident  relief  at  turning  the  talk  from  the  subject 
of  money. 

"  The  essentials  to  what?  " 

"To  making  you  a  truly  fine  and  charming  woman. 
You've  lived  in  an  environment  of  culture,  of  big  ideas;  and 
you've  had  no  sordid  money  cares  to  embitter  you  or  blunt 
the  sensitive  fineness  of  your  spirit." 

"But  my  life  has  lacked  one  great  essential,  Catherine 
— affection,  love." 

"Your  uncle  must  have  loved  you,  dear,  he  must  have. 
For  you  are  lovable,  you  know.  Well,  rather!" 

"He  loved  me  as  his  handmaid  who  kept  him  comfort- 
able. If  ever  I  tried  to  be  affectionate  with  him,  he  would 
act  like  a  hyena ! " 

[198] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"If  he  was  human,  he  loved  you!" 

"He  wasn't  human,  that  was  it.  He  had  all  run  to  in- 
tellect and  hadn't  a  vulnerable  spot  left." 

"Did  you  love  Aim?" 

"I  wanted  to,  but  he  wouldn't  have  it.  When  he  died, 
I  did  miss  him  keenly,  he  had  grown  to  be  a  habit  with  me; 
a  stimulant,  too.  No  one  could  live  with  Uncle  Osmond 
and  not  keep  very  much  alive.  So  of  course  my  life 
seemed  suddenly  very  empty  without  him:  he  had  been 
my  chief  care  and  thought  for  so  many  years.  I  suppose 
I  shall  never  quite  get  over  missing  him.  But  I  can't  say 
I  ever  really  grieved  for  him." 

When  about  a  half -hour  later,  at  the  end  of  an  exhilarat- 
ing and  satisfying  time  together  which  put  a  new  seal  upon 
their  friendship,  the  two  young  women  parted  to  go  to 
their  homes,  Catherine  considered,  as  she  walked  slowly, 
to  give  herself  time  to  think,  how  strange  it  was  that  she, 
as  Mr.  Daniel  Leitzel's  confidential  secretary,  knew  so 
very  much  more  about  him  and  his  affairs  than  did  his  own 
wife. 

"She  actually  does  not  know  that  she  has  married  a 
multi-millionaire.  And  I  don't  believe  it  would  impress 
her  greatly  to  discover  that  she  had.  She  is  unique!  For 
a  woman  like  Margaret  to  find  herself  tied  up  with  those 
Leitzels,  oh!"  Catherine  laughed  to  herself  at  what  seemed 
to  her  the  extreme  absurdity  of  the  combination.  "But 
it  is  so  tragic,  too !  Why  on  earth  did  she  marry  him  if 
not  for  his  money?  Will  she,  I  wonder,  ever  reach  the 
point  of  telling  me  why  she  did?  No,"  she  shook  her  head 
conclusively,  "not  so  long  as  she  continues  to  live  with 

[199] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

him  will  any  one  ever  hear  one  disloyal  syllable  from  her, 
I'm  sure.  If  she  ever  came  to  the  point  of  rectifying  by 
divorce  the  blunder  she  made  in  marrying  him,  for  what- 
ever mysterious  reason,  then  perhaps  she'll  explain  herself 
to  me." 

Catherine  wondered  how  long  it  would  take  Margaret 
to  find  out  that  she  was  married  to  one  of  the  richest  men 
in  the  state. 

"If  I  ever  see  her  inconvenienced  by  lack  of  funds,  I'll 
enlighten  her  with  some  facts  and  figures  known  only  to 
her  husband  and  myself,"  she  resolved.  "Even  I  don't 
know  all  he  has,  though  I  do  know  what  the  public  doesn't 
dream  of." 

She  was  aware  that  her  employer  had,  before  ever 
trusting  her  with  any  knowledge  of  his  financial  affairs, 
tested  and  proved  her  to  be  a  very  safe  repository  of  his 
secrets. 

"But  his  wife,  supposed  to  be  one  with  himself  and  en- 
dowed with  all  his  worldly  goods,  has  a  right  to  know  the 
extent  of  them.  If  I  don't  supply  her  with  any  actual 
facts  (which  would,  of  course,  roll  from  her  like  drops  of 
mercury,  leaving  no  least  impression),  I  can,  without 
treachery  to  Mr.  Leitzel,  give  her  to  understand  that  her 
husband  doesn't  spend,  in  the  course  of  a  year,  more  than 
one  thirtieth  of  the  interest  on  his  capital." 

She  doubted,  however,  whether  even  a  succinct  state- 
ment like  that  would  make  any  difference  to  Margaret 
unless  she  became  a  mother;  for  Catherine  believed  she 
had  succeeded,  though  with  some  difficulty,  in  impressing 
upon  her  friend  her  own  theory  that  the  divine  right  of 

[200] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

motherhood  ought  to  make  a  woman,  by  law,  a  full  and 
equal  partner  in  all  her  husband's  "wordly  goods." 

"I  certainly  did  have  a  time  persuading  her  that  my 
theory  is  of  any  importance  in  our  modern  social  economy. 
Wait  until  the  poor  child  learns  to  know  the  Pennsylvania 
Dutch  idea  of  woman's  economic  position,  and  until  she 
begins  to  get  a  little  acquainted  with  the  man  she  has  mar- 
ried!" 

She  drew  a  long  breath  as  she  reached  the  front  door  of 
her  "rented"  home.  "Well,"  she  concluded,  "my  in- 
timacy with  my  employer's  wife  promises  some  excite- 
ment!" 


[201] 


XVII 

IN  SPITE  of  the  forbearance  which  Margaret  felt  she 
had  exercised  in  her  desire  to  be  scrupulously  con- 
siderate of  Daniel  and  his  sisters  in  everything  per- 
taining to  the  party,  the  night  of  this  much-advertised 
"social  event"  found  her  in  serious  disfavour  not  only  with 
her  sisters-in-law,  but  with  her  husband  himself;  first, 
because  of  her  persistence  in  ignoring  their  dictation  as 
to  the  sort  of  gown  she  should  wear;  secondly,  their  dis- 
covery that  she  was  taking  daily  walks  with  Miss  Hamil- 
ton; for  though  Margaret  would  not  stoop  to  any  secrecy 
as  to  her  relation  with  Daniel's  secretary,  yet  she  had  not 
gone  out  of  her  way  to  publish  it,  and  so  the  walks  had 
been  going  on  for  some  time  before  her  three  monitors 
learned  of  them;  thirdly,  the  exception  they  had  taken  to 
her  telling  some  callers,  by  whose  patronage  they  felt 
honoured,  that  she  could  not  afford  a  new  set  of  furs! 
Mrs.  Ocksreider  had  spoken  admiringly  of  the  furs  she  had 
seen  Margaret  wearing  one  day  and  had  asked  where  she 
had  bought  them,  and  Margaret  had  replied  that  she  had 
never  bought  any  furs  in  her  life;  that  she  had  always  been 
too  poor  (Danny's  wife  admitting  poverty!),  and  that 
these  furs  had  been  her  grandmother's! — telling  Mrs. 
Ocksreider,  of  all  people,  that  she  wore  her  grandmother's 
old  clothes! 

[2021 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

But  Mrs.  Ocksreider's  reply  had  been  puzzling  to  Jennie 
and  Sadie: 

"Oh,  but  my  dear  Mrs.  Leitzel,  to  have  had  a  grand- 
mother who  wore  sable!  It  ought  to  admit  you  to  the 
D.  A.  R's!  No  wonder  you  flaunt  them  and  refuse  to 
buy  new  ones!" 

Then  Margaret  had  further  mortified  them  before  this 
same  formidable  social  leader  of  New  Munich  by  refusing 
her  invitation  to  join  the  Women's  Auxiliary  of  the 
Episcopal  Church,  which,  as  Jennie  and  Sadie  well  knew, 
was  made  up  of  New  Munich's  "leading  society  ladies"; 
so  what  was  their  horror  to  hear  Margaret  reply,  "It's 
very  charitable  of  you  to  fancy  that  I'd  be  of  the  least  use 
to  you.  But  I've  always  hated  Women's  Auxiliaries!" 
And  she  said  it  with  such  a  musical  drawl  that  Mrs. 
Ocksreider,  instead  of  showing  how  offended  she  must  be, 
had  laughed  as  though  she  found  it  funny.  But  the  idea 
of  saying  you  hated  Women's  Auxiliaries!  It  was  next 
thing  to  saying  that  you  hated  the  Bible!  Never  had 
Jennie  and  Sadie  experienced  such  a  painful  half-hour 
as  that  of  this  call. 

Fourthly,  Daniel's  sisters  had  at  last  discovered,  through 
persistent  prying,  that  his  wife  did  not  have  an  independent 
income;  and  Margaret,  her  wits  sharpened  by  her  new 
environment  to  recognize  things  at  first  unthinkable  to 
her,  saw  that  this  discovery  made  Jennie  and  Sadie  feel 
more  free  than  ever  to  dictate  to  her  and  interfere  with  her 
liberty. 

All  these  little  episodes  combining  to  bring  upon  her  the 
displeasure  of  the  household,  the  night  of  the  party  found 

[2031 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

her  in  a  not  very  cheerful  frame  of  mind,  though  the  deep 
satisfaction  that  was  hers  in  the  great  friendship  that  had 
come  into  her  life,  the  most  vital  human  relation  that  she 
had  ever  known,  made  it  impossible  for  these  smaller 
things  to  disturb  her  fundamentally,  as  otherwise  they 
might  have  done. 

There  had  been  one  event  of  that  day  that  had  somewhat 
brightened  for  her  the  gloom  of  the  home  atmosphere: 
a  belated  wedding-gift  had  come  from  Daniel's  step- 
mother— a  patchwork  quilt — accompanied  by  a  letter 
addressed  to  Daniel  and  his  wife,  written  for  the  old 
woman  by  the  district  school  teacher. 

" '  It's  a  very  humble  present  I  am  sending  you,' "  Daniel 
had  read  the  letter  aloud  at  the  breakfast  table.  ' '  But 
it's  the  work  of  my  old  hands,  dear  children,  the  last  I'll 
ever  do — and  the  love  of  my  heart  went  into  every  stitch 
of  it.  I  was  so  proud  that  you  sent  me  such  a  notice  of 
your  wedding;  to  remember  your  old  mother,  Danny,  when 
you  were  so  happy  yourself.  I've  been  working  on  the 
quilt  ever  since  I  got  the  notice  about  the  wedding  al- 
ready, and  now  I'd  like  so  well  to  see  your  wife,  Danny. 
I'll  try,  if  I  am  strong  enough,  to  take  the  train  in,  one  of 
these  days,  and  see  you  both.  I'll  come  back  the  same 
day  so  as  not  to  make  any  of  you  any  extra  work  or  trou- 
ble. I  would  like  to  see  the  lady  you  married,  Danny, 
before  I  die,  and  give  her  an  old  woman's  wishes  for  a 
happy,  useful  life  with  my  good  son  that  I  am  so  proud  of. 
I  wish  I  could  live  long  enough  to  see  your  first  baby, 
Danny,  but  I  guess  it  won't  be  many  months  any  more 
before  I  must  go  to  my  long  home.'" 

[204] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"Yes,  that's  always  the  way  she  talks — she  '  hasn't  long 
to  live'  just  to  work  on  our  feelings  so  as  to  make  us  give 
her  more!"  Jennie  commented.  "She  has  no  need  to 
come  in  here  to  see  Margaret.  She  makes  herself  very 
bold  to  offer  to.  And  she  can't  spare  the  car  fare,  little 
as  what  she  has  to  go  on.  What's  Margaret  to  her  any- 
how? And  she's  likely  to  be  too  feeble  to  get  back  if  she 
comes  in.  Then  we'd  have  her  on  our  hands  yet!" 

But  Margaret  had  spent  an  hour  of  the  morning  in 
writing  to  Mrs.  Leitzel,  acknowledging  her  gift,  telling 
her  how  glad  she  would  be  to  see  one  who  had  done  so 
much  for  Daniel  when  he  was  a  boy.  For  their  step- 
mother's self-sacrificing  devotion  to  them  all  in  their 
childhood  had  been  made  known  to  Margaret  through 
many  an  unwitting,  significant  remark  dropped  in  her 
presence.  She  concluded  her  letter: 

I  am  coming  out  to  see  you  very  soon,  certainly  some  day  next 
week.  Daniel  will  bring  me  if  he  has  time.  If  not,  I'll  go  myself. 
Until  then,  with  my  heartfelt  thanks  for  the  work  of  your  dear 
hands,  which  I  shall  use  with  pride  and  with  grateful  thoughts  of 
you, 

I  am  your  affectionate  daughter, 

MARGARET  BERKELEY  LEITZEL. 

All  that  day,  through  the  constant  little  rasping  an- 
tagonisms which  Margaret,  despite  her  good  intentions, 
seemed  unable  to  avert  in  any  intercourse  between  herself 
and  the  Leitzels,  she  felt  that  consolatory  bit  of  kindness 
and  good  will  which  had  come  to  her  from  the  old  woman 
in  the  country.  And  when  she  stood  at  night  with  her 

[205] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

husband  and  his  sisters  to  receive  their  guests  (Sadie  in 
pink  satine)  the  friendly  spirit  of  her  aged  mother-in-law 
was  with  her  still  in  the  background  of  her  consciousness, 
softening  the  light  of  her  eyes  and  making  human  the 
perfunctory  smile  of  her  lips  as  she  repeated  her  conven- 
tional formula  of  greeting  over  and  over;  so  that  people 
marvelled  at  the  apparent  continued  tranquillity  of  this 
incongruously  assorted  household. 

When  later  in  the  evening  Margaret  was  free  to  move 
about  among  her  guests,  Daniel's  cold  displeasure  with 
her  was  greatly  modified  as  he  witnessed  again  to-night, 
as  on  many  previous  occasions,  how  attractive  she  un- 
doubtedly was  to  the  men  of  his  world.  His  uncannily 
keen  little  eyes  read  in  the  faces  of  his  male  guests,  as  they 
approached  and  talked  with  Margaret,  the  covetousness 
they  felt  for  this  rare  possession  of  his.  No  acquisition 
of  all  his  acquisitive  career  had  ever  given  him  a  more 
delectable  joy  than  his  realization  of  the  worth,  in  other 
men's  eyes,  of  his  charming  wife. 

Had  he  overheard  the  view  of  her  which  was  ventilated, 
though  surreptitiously,  by  some  of  the  guests  over  their 
supper,  his  satisfaction  might  have  been  somewhat  modi- 
fied. 

"I  think  she's  a  scream!"  declared  Myrtle  Deibert  to 
the  group  at  her  table.  "Did  you  hear  what  she  said 
to  me  as  we  were  leaving  the  Country  Club  dance  last 
Wednesday  evening,  when  I  remarked  to  her,  'Your 
husband  is  so  awfully  in  love  with  you,  Mrs.  Leitzel; 
just  see  how  he  is  beaming  on  you  from  clear  across  the 
room!'  'Scowling  at  me,  you  mean,'  she  corrected  me. 

[206] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

'Don't  you  hear  our  taxicab  registering  out  there  while  I 
linger  to  talk  to  you?'" 

This  anecdote  was  met  with  a  shout  of  laughter,  the 
point  of  which  would  certainly  have  remained  obscure  to 
Daniel  Leitzel. 

"Of  course  you  all  heard  of  her  telling  mother,"  said 
Miss  Ocksreider,  "that  she  hated  Women's  Auxiliaries? 
And  that  she  wore  her  grandmother's  old  furs  because  she 
couldn't  afford  to  buy  new  ones?  Mother  says" — she 
lowered  her  voice  and  the  group  at  the  table  closed  in  a 
bit  closer  to  catch  her  words — "  that  it  was  a  perfect  circus 
to  see  the  consternation  of  Miss  Jennie  and  Miss  Sadie 
when  she  said  she  was  poor.  Isn't  it  queer  how  they  are 
so  proud  of  their  money  and  yet  so  afraid  to  spend  it?  " 

"Did  you  hear,"  inquired  Mrs.  Eshelman,  "what  Mrs. 
Leitzel  said  to  me  last  Sunday  after  church  when  I  told 
her  I'd  put  a  five-dollar  gold  piece  on  the  collection  plate 
in  mistake  for  a  nickel  and  I  had  half  a  mind  to  ask  the 
usher  to  let  me  have  it  back.  'You  might  as  well,'  she 
said,  'for  you  know  the  Lord  won't  give  you  credit  for 
more  than  five  cents.'" 

"  She  certainly  does  go  to  the  ragged  edge,"  Mr.  Eshel- 
man added  his  quota;  "I  asked  her  this  evening  whether 
she  had  been  to  hear  the  evangelist's  address  to  Women 
Only,  and  she  said  no,  what  she  wanted  to  hear  was  a  talk 
to  Men  Only!" 

"What  do  you  think  she  said  to  me  when  I  told  her," 
said  Mrs.  Hostetter,  "what  a  bad  boy  the  son  of  the 
Presbyterian  pastor  is.  'This  proverbial  badness  of 
minister's  children,'  she  said,  '  is  often,  I  think,  just  the 

[207] 


HER  HUSBAND  S  PURSE 

hypocrisy  of  the  minister  breaking  out/  '  But  all  ministers 
are  not  hypocrites,'  I  said  to  her,  shocked.  'Of  course, 
unconsciously  hypocrites,'  she  answered.  'They  don't 
deceive  any  one  else  as  they  deceive  themselves.'  Isn't 
she  queer?"  added  Mrs.  Hostetter,  genuinely  puzzled. 

" She's  a  peach!"  declared  Mr.  Hostetter. 

"Danny  must  think  so,"  declared  Mr.  Eshelman,  'to 
open  up  like  this  in  her  honour!"  indicating  the  elaborate 
supper  provided  by  the  city  caterer.  "Terrapin,  mind 
you,  at  Danny  Leitzel's!" 

"And  the  'floral  decorations!'"  breathed  Miss  Deibert 
with  an  appreciative  glance  at  the  roses  and  palms  that 
decorated  the  dining-room.  "It  doesn't  seem  possible, 
does  it?" 

"This  party  is  costing  Danny  something!"  grinned 
Hostetter. 

"And  to  think,"  said  Mrs.  Hostetter,  "that  Dan  Leitzel 
has  married  a  penniless  bride — as  she  certainly  gives  it 
out  that  she  is  !  It  doesn't  seem  possible." 

"The  power  of  one  little  woman!"  said  Mr.  Hostetter 
pensively.  "  I  tell  you  that  girl's  eyes,  and  her  voice,  and 
her  figger,  and  her  teeth  and  lips,  would  melt  any  man's 
heart,  even  one  of  flint  like  Dan  Leitzel's ! " 

"That  will  do,  Jacob!"  stiffly  admonished  Mrs.  Hostet- 
ter. 

"Will  you  look  at  that  blue  glass  owl  on  the  sideboard," 
said  Miss  Ocksreider.  "Wouldn't  you  think  Mrs.  Leitzel 
would  have  removed  it  before  this  party?  " 

"She  wouldn't  dare!  Miss  Jennie  thinks  it's  choice!" 
responded  Mrs.  Eshelman.  "She  got  it  ten  years  ago  at 

[2081 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

the  ninety-nine-cent  store  for  Danny's  Christmas  present, 
and  she  told  me  at  the  time  that  she  knew  it  was  an  awful 
price  to  pay  for  a  mere  pitcher,  but  that  they  needed  a 
handsome  ornament  for  the  top  of  their  sideboard.  No, 
indeed,  Mrs.  Leitzel  wouldn't  dare  discard  that  old 
owl!" 

"How  she  manages  to  steer  her  way  peaceably  among 
the  three  members  of  this  household!"  murmured  Miss 
Deibert. 

"She's  a  wonder!" 

"And  she  certainly  knows  how  to  keep  her  opinions  to 
herself,"  said  Mrs.  Hostetter.  "No  one  gets  a  word  out 
of  her  as  to  what  she  thinks  of  her  in-laws ! " 

"Then  she  is  a  wonder!"  volunteered  Hostetter. 

"Wouldn't  I  like  to  be  her  father  confessor!"  exclaimed 
Miss  Deibert.  "I  don't  know  what  I  wouldn't  give  for  an 
X-ray  view  of  her  mind ! " 

It  was  a  curious  fact  that  the  only  person  present  at  the 
Leitzels'  notable  party  who  was  quite  unimpressed  by  the 
expensiveness  of  the  affair  was  Margaret  herself. 

What  did  impress  her,  as  she  chatted  with  her  guests 
and  ate  her  supper,  was  the  subtlety  with  which  one  can 
be  penetrated  by  the  spiritual  atmosphere  of  a  given  group; 
she  felt  so  acutely  that  of  this  gathering  to-night  as  com- 
pared with  the  fine  aroma  of  any  social  collection  of  her 
Southern  environment,  with  its  old  inherited  simplicity 
and  culture.  She  had  thought,  in  the  first  weeks  of  her 
New  Munich  life,  that  the  difference  must  be  only  ex- 
ternal, for  she  was  not  only  democratically  disposed  by 
nature,  but  the  rather  socialistic  theories  with  which  her 

[209] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

uncle  had  imbued  her  inclined  her  to  a  large  view  of  any 
social  discrepancies. 

To-night,  however,  it  was  borne  in  upon  her  that  she 
was  an  alien  in  this  company;  that  she  could  more  readily 
find  a  real  point  of  contact  and  sympathy  with  the  plain- 
est sort  of  day-labouring  people;  with,  for  instance,  the 
Leitzels'  cook,  who  was  at  least  genuine  and  not  preten- 
tious, than  with  these  people  who  knew  no  ideals  except 
those  of  material  possession  and  whose  purpose  in  life 
seemed  to  be,  on  the  part  of  the  women,  to  outshine  their 
acquaintances  and  kill  time;  and  on  that  of  the  men  to 
make  money  enough  to  allow  the  women  to  pursue  this 
useful  and  exalted  career. 

"People  who  are  poor  enough  to  be  obliged  to  work," 
she  spoke  out  her  reflections  to  the  lawyer,  Henry  Frantz, 
who  happened  to  be  sipping  coffee  with  her,  "have  really 
purer  and  more  wholesome  views  of  life  than — than  we 
have"  (she  indicated,  by  a  turn  of  her  hand,  the  company 
at  large).  " I  begin  to  understand,  Mr.  Frantz,  why,  in  the 
history  of  nations,  we  see  decay  set  in  just  as  soon  as  a 
climax  of  prosperity  has  been  reached.  To  survive  the 
deadening  influence  of  great  wealth,  well,  it's  only  the 
fittest  among  nations  and  individuals  who  are  strong 
enough  to  do  it,  isn't  it?" 

"But  it  is  only  where  there  is  a  leisure  class  that  we  find 
art  and  culture,"  suggested  Mr.  Frantz. 

"The  great  minds  and  the  great  characters  of  the  world, 
however,  have  never  come  from  an  environment  of  wealthy 
leisure.  In  our  own  country,  has  any  one  of  our  really 
great  Presidents  been  educated  in  private  schools?  Nearly 

[2101 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

every  citizen  of  eminent  usefulness  is  a  public  school 
product." 

"A  notable  exception — your  husband,"  he  replied. 

"Citizen  of  eminent  usefulness,'  "  she  musingly  experi- 
mented with  her  phrase.  "  Would  Mr.  Leitzel  come  under 
that  head?" 

"He's  a  lawyer  of  state- wide,  if  not  national,  reputation, 
Mrs.  Leitzel." 

"I  know.  Are  they  an  eminently  useful  class — cor- 
poration lawers?  I  merely  ask  for  information.  My  ig- 
norance on  most  subjects  is  unfathomable." 

"Well,  we  couldn't  get  along  without  them." 

"Corporations  couldn't.  But  aren't  we  beginning  to 
think  we  could  get  along  without  corporations?  " 

"Boneheads  may  think  so.  It  is  civilization  that  has 
built  up  corporations,  and  every  time  a  corporation  is  dis- 
solved we  take  a  backward  step  in  civilization." 

"If  public  utilities,"  said  Margaret  dogmatically,  quot- 
ing her  Uncle  Osmond,  "were  conducted  for  the  benefit 
not  of  corporations,  but  by  the  Government  for  the  benefit 
of  the  whole  people,  we'd  have  a  full  treasury  without  tax- 
ing the  people." 

Mr.  Frantz  looked  at  her  and  broke  into  irrepressible 
laughter.  "Excuse  me,  Mrs.  Leitzel,  but  that  anything 
looking  so  girlish  and  pretty,  that  anything  even  remotely 
associated  with  my  good  friend  Danny  Leitzel,  should  be 
giving  out  remarks  like  that — well,  it's  a  little  too  much 
for  me,  you  see!  Did  you  and  my  friend  Danny  exchange 
views  on  social  economics  before  you  were  married?  " 

"We  didn't  have  time  to  exchange  views  on  anything. 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

We  knew  each  other  just  six  weeks  before  we  were  mar- 
ried." 

"And  have  been  getting  acquainted  since?" 

"I'm  inclined  to  think  a  six  weeks'  acquaintance  just 
as  good  as  a  lifetime  one  for  finding  out  what  kind  of  a 
mate  your  lover  is  going  to  make." 

"  Exactly.     No  good  at  all,  eh?  " 

"Not  much,"  she  smiled. 

"I  wonder,"  speculated  Mr.  Frantz,  eying  her  curiously, 
"if  there  was  ever  a  married  pair  whose  ideal  of  each  other 
grew  higher  after  marriage.  Think  so?" 

"Surely.  Their  lives  being  a  daily  unfolding  of  new 
beauties  and  excellences  to  each  other." 

"Oh,  but  I'm  afraid  you're  a  sentimentalist." 

"  Southerners  generally  are,  but  they're  saved,  you  know, 
by  their  unfailing  sense  of  humour,"  she  responded,  turn- 
ing from  him  to  give  some  attention  to  the  man  seated  on 
the  other  side  of  her  at  the  little  supper  table. 

Mrs.  Leitzel's  adroitness  in  avoiding  thin  ice  was  the 
despair  of  the  gossips  of  New  Munich. 


[212] 


XVIII  . 

MARGARET'S  radiant  happiness  in  the  discovery 
she  made  on  the  very  day  after  the  party,  that 
she  was  embarked  on  the  wonderful  passage  to 
motherhood,  fraught  with  its  strangely  mingled  suffering 
and  bliss,  was  somewhat  tempered  by  the  consciousness  that 
the  coming  child  would  have  to  be  a  Leitzel;  there  was  no 
escaping  that  catastrophe.  She  tried  to  persuade  herself 
that  the  Leitzel  characteristics,  if  properly  educated, 
might  not  be  so  very  lamentable;  but  her  deep-down  con- 
viction that  her  child  ran  the  risk  of  inheriting  a  small, 
mean  soul  gave  her  no  little  anxiety  and  self-reproach. 

"My  penalty  for  trying  to  compromise  with  life's 
austerities!"  she  grimly  told  herself  with  sad  misgiving. 

Her  husband's  joy  and  pride  in  the  prospect  of  being  a 
father  consoled  her  somewhat,  it  was  so  human  and  normal 
of  him;  though  even  here  the  taint  of  greed  entered  in,  he 
was  so  inordinately  pleased  that  his  money  would  not 
have  to  be  left  to  Hiram's  children. 

Indeed,  during  the  earlier  weeks  of  her  pregnancy, 
Margaret  tried  hard  to  keep  her  mind  off  the  topics  dis- 
cussed in  the  bosom  of  the  family,  so  fearful  was  she  of  the 
effect,  upon  her  child,  of  her  own  recoil  from  the  Leitzel 
view  of  life. 

She  found  that  they  never  would  get  done  talking  about 
[213] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

the  cost  of  that  party;  it  was  evidently  going  to  occupy 
them  for  the  rest  of  their  mortal  lives.  The  worst  of  it 
was  they  so  insisted  upon  impressing  it  upon  her. 

"Hiram  never  spent  that  much  for  a  party  for  his  Liz- 
zie, and  she  brought  her  husband  thirty  thousand  dollars. 
It  ain't  many  husbands  that  would  so  spend  for  a  wife 
that — well,  don't  you  think,  too,  Margaret,  that  Danny's 
awful  generous  considering?" 

"  Considering  what,  Jennie?  " 

"Ach,  Margaret,  don't  be  so  dumb!  Considering  you 
ain't  got  anything." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  have  something — youth  and  health  and 
intelligence  and  good  temper.  I'm  a  prize.  Daniel  thinks 
so." 

"But  you  see,"  interposed  Sadie,  "our  Danny  could 
have  had  any  of  our  rich  town  girls  here." 

"And  yet  preferred  me.  His  good  taste.  The  only 
instance  of  it  I've  ever  noticed." 

She  knew  the  puzzled  despair  of  her  husband's  sisters 
over  their  inability  to  make  her  humbly  grateful  for  that 
she,  a  penniless  bride,  had  been  "chosen"  by  their  brother. 
But  that  she  should  fail  to  appreciate  the  expenditure  for 
the  party  given  in  her  honour  was  too  much. 

"Why,  Danny's  bills  come  to  three  hundred  dollars 
yet!"  Jennie  told  her  with  heat.  "And  Sadie  ain't  well 
yet  from  over-eating  that  rich  supper  we  had  that  night 
off  of  the  Philadelphia  caterer! " 

"Yes,  I  feel  it  yet,"  said  Sadie  plaintively.  "Just  to 
think,  Margaret,  that  Danny  spent  three  hundred  dollars 
for  the  party  for  you ! " 

[214] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"Did  he  get  off  so  easily  as  that?  The  flowers  were  so 
abundant  and  the  supper  so  nice,  I  would  have  supposed 
they  would  have  cost  more  than  that,  if  I  had  thought 
about  the  cost." 

"Well,  why  didn't  you  think  about  the  cost,  when  it  was 
all  for  you?" 

"I  didn't  think  about  it,  my  dears,  because  the  cost  of 
things  doesn't  interest  me;  I  have  so  many  more  interesting 
things  to  think  about.  This,  for  instance,"  she  said, 
holding  up  the  dainty  baby  dress  on  which  she  had  been 
sewing  as  they  all  sat  together  in  the  sitting-room,  awaiting 
Daniel's  coming  home  to  his  noon  dinner. 

"But  it's  a  wife's  place  to " 

Daniel's  entrance  cut  short  Jennie's  admonitions.  The 
dinner-table  talk,  however,  scarcely  relieved  the  tension  on 
Margaret's  nerves. 

Daniel  was  always  expansive  as  to  his  business  "deals" 
when  he  felt  complacent,  and  to-day  his  state  of  mind  was 
one  of  unusual  satisfaction,  for  just  before  dinner  Margaret 
had  displayed  to  him  (surreptitiously,  to  spare  the  virgin 
squeamishness  of  Jennie  and  Sadie)  the  baby  things  upon 
which  she  had  been  working,  and  his  delight  in  them  was 
like  unto  that  of  a  woman.  He  was  therefore  talkative 
and  confidential  over  his  roast  beef. 

"Well,  Margaret,  you  can  be  proud  of  the  way  your 
husband  upholds  Christian  principles  in  this  community. 
I  received  in  my  morning's  mail  a  letter  from  the  Board  of 
Managers  of  the  Y.  W.  C.  A.  thanking  me  for  the  stand  I 
took  at  the  meeting  yesterday  afternoon  of  the  stock- 
holders of  the  Country  Club  on  the  question  of  Sunday 

[2151 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

sports.  Some  of  the  men  want  tennis  and  golf  allowed  on 
Sunday,  but  /  stand  for  the  sanctity  of  the  Sabbath,  and  I 
wouldn't  give  in  one  inch.  I'm  the  biggest  stockholder  of 
the  club  and  they  can't  go  against  my  vote  in  anything. 
I  may  say  I  rule  the  Country  Club.  One  fellow,  Abe 
Meyers,  got  up  and  declared  he'd  organize  a  new  country 
club  before  he'd  'submit  to  the  tyranny  of  one  hidebound 
Pharisee ! '  What  do  you  think  of  that?  "  chuckled  Daniel. 
" '  The  tyranny  of  one  hidebound  Pharisee ! '  Sour  grapes, 
of  course.  He  hasn't  the  cash  or  the  influence  to  organize 
another  club.  I  told  them  that  so  long  as  I  was  a  member 
of  that  club,  the  sanctity  of  the  Sabbath  should  be  pre- 
served. Golf  and  tennis  six  days  of  the  week,  but  on  the 
Sabbath,  no  sports;  and  I  said  I  knew  I  had  behind  me  the 
support  of  our  Christian  community.  You  see,  Margaret, 
if  I  withdrew,  the  club  couldn't  go  on." 

"That  very  fact,"  said  Margaret,  her  voice  rather  weak, 
"ought,  I  should  think,  make  you  unwilling  to  impose  your 
theories  upon  the  other  members.  Noblesse  oblige,  you 
know." 

But  Daniel  was  incapable  of  seeing  this  point  of  view. 

"The  evening  papers,"  he  continued,  his  eyes  gleaming 
with  satisfaction,  "will  give  a  full  account  of  the  meeting 
yesterday  and  publish,,  also,  the  letter  of  thanks  sent  to 
me  by  the  Y.  W.  C.  A.  I  handed  that  letter  to  a  reporter 
of  the  Intelligencer.  You'll  see  it  in  to-night's  paper, 
Margaret." 

"Oh!"  breathed  Jennie  and  Sadie,  awe  and  admiration 
in  their  tones,  and  worship  in  the  glances  sent  across  the 
table  to  Daniel.  "Here,  Emmy,"  Jennie  ordered  the 

[216] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

maid,  "don't  you  see  Mr.  Danny's  milk  glass  is  empty? 
Fill  it  up.  Do  you  like  these  pickles,  Danny?  They're 
the  first  I  opened  yet." 

"They're  of  just  precisely  the  degree  of  sourness  I  like," 
Daniel  nodded  approvingly. 

"Danny's  so  much  for  sour,"  Jennie  informed  Margaret. 
"Yes,  you  took  notice  already,  I  guess,  how  he  eats  sour 
all  the  time  at  his  meals,  even  up  to  his  pie.  I  have  to 
put  up  a  lot  of  pickles  and  Chili  sauce  and  chow-chow  for 
him.  Ain't,  Danny?  And  he  says  no  one's  sour  tastes 
so  good  to  him  as  what  mine  does.  I  don't  know  what  he 
would  do,"  she  said  in  consternation,  "if  I  was  taken  and 
he  couldn't  have  his  sour  any  more." 

"There's  Heinz's  fifty-seven  varieties,"  said  Mar- 
garet. 

"Heinz!"  scoffed  Jennie.  "Our  Danny  eat  that  Heinz 
stuff,  used  as  he  is  to  good  home-made  sour!  Well, 
Margaret,  you  don't  mean  to  tell  me  you'd  feed  that  to 
our  Danny!  I'd  turn  in  my  grave!" 

"I'd  'feed  him'  Heinz's  fifty-seven  varieties  and  tell 
him  I'd  made  them  myself;  a  plan,  you  see,  which  would 
make  Daniel  happy  while  it  saved  my  time  and  energies 
for  something  more  useful  than  pickles." 

"You'd  deceive  him?"  exclaimed  Sadie,  scandalized. 
"Tell  a  lie  to  your  own  husband  yet!" 

"Is  a  lie  ever  justifiable?"  asked  Margaret  ponderously. 
"History  and  psychology  answer,  Yes;  to  the  insane,  the 
nervously  distorted,  and  to  spoiled  and  pampered  men 
creatures." 

"  Well,  you'd  have  a  hard  time  fooling  our  Danny !  He 
[2171 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

ain't  so  easy  fooled.  A  good  thing  he's  got  us  to  look  after 
him  if  you  wouldn't  even  put  up  sour  for  him ! " 

"Now  I  begin  to  see,"  said  Margaret,  "that  the  man, 
Heinz,  creator  of  'sour,'  is  a  human  benefactor  and  should 
have  a  noble  monument  erected  to  him  by  put-upon  wives. 
I'll  start  the  movement." 

"A  stroke  of  luck,"  Daniel  here  broke  into  the  dispute, 
"came  to  me  to-day.  You  remember,  Margaret,  the 
leather  store  on  the  corner  of  Third  and  Prince  streets?  " 

"Yes." 

"Danny  owns  near  that  whole  block,"  Jennie  quickly 
informed  her,  though  Margaret's  persistent  indifference  to 
such  facts  was  a  constant  irritation  to  her  and  Sadie. 

"I've  been  getting  one  hundred  dollars  a  month  rent 
for  that  store,"  Daniel  stated,  while  his  sisters  listened 
breathlessly  to  such  fascinating  statistics.  "Three  months 
ago,  George  Trout,  the  renter,  came  to  me  and  said  he'd 
have  to  have  more  storeroom  for  his  growing  business  and 
wanted  me  to  extend  the  room  back  into  the  lot.  He  laid 
it  off  to  me  how  I  ought  to  do  this  for  him  because  he  had 
rented  that  room  from  me  for  the  past  fifteen  years  and 
had  never  been  a  day  late  with  his  rent,  not  even  when  I 
had  suddenly  and  unexpectedly  raised  his  rent  two  years 
ago  from  seventy-five  to  one  hundred  dollars  a  month; 
and  he  argued  that  he  himself  had  paid  for  the  repairs  and 
the  upkeep  of  his  storeroom  for  the  past  eight  years;  that 
his  successful  leather  shop  had  increased  the  value  of  my 
property;  and  that  I  certainly  owed  it  to  him  to  extend 
the  floor  space.  Well,  I  simply  told  him  that  if  the  place 
was  too  small  for  him,  he  was  perfectly  welcome  to  move; 

[218] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

that  I  certainly  wouldn't  incur  the  expense  of  enlarging 
the  store  when  I  could  so  easily  rent  it  any  time  as  it  was. 
He  argued  and  fussed  'round  my  office  and  said  he'd  been 
my  faithful  tenant  for  fifteen  years  and  I  had  never  done 
a  thing  for  him  and  that  I  knew  perfectly  well  he  couldn't 
move  his  business,  for  there  wasn't  another  vacant  store- 
room in  the  town  in  a  location  that  wouldn't  kill  his  busi- 
ness dead.  Yes,  I  said  I  knew  that  all  right.  'And,'  said 
he,  'I  absolutely  require  more  floor  space.'  'Yes,  I  know 
that,  too,'  I  said,  'but  it's  no  concern  of  mine;  /have no 
stock  in  your  business,  Mr.  Trout.  I'm  your  landlord, 
and  you  know  business  is  always  strictly  business  with  me. 
I  can  rent  that  storeroom  the  very  hour  you  move  out  of 
it.'  He  tried  to  tell  me  again  about  his  keeping  up  the 
repairs,  but  I  cut  that  short  and  said  he'd  got  my  answer 
and  now  I  was  busy.  Well,  I  certainly  was  amused  to 
see  how  mad  he  looked  as  he  flung  himself  out  of  my  office. 
But,"  said  Daniel,  his  eyes  narrowing  to  the  look  of  cun- 
ning from  which  Margaret  was  learning  to  wince  as  from  a 
touch  on  a  bared  nerve,  "the  affair  has  turned  out  just  as 
I  foresaw  it  would!  That's  the  secret  of  my  success, 
Margaret,  as  Jennie  and  Sadie  can  tell  you.  I  look  at 
every  proposition,  no  matter  how  small  a  one,  to  find  in  it 
the  main  chance — the  chance  for  me.  I  saw  there'd  be 
only  one  thing  for  Trout  to  do:  enlarge  the  store  at  his  own 
expense.  No  more  than  right  that  he  should.  No  least 
reason  why  /  should  do  it." 

"Of  course  not!"  exclaimed  Jennie  and  Sadie  in  one 
breath,  while  Margaret,  looking  rather  wan,  did  not  raise 
her  eyes  from  her  plate,  for  the  self-complacency  of  her 

[219] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

husband's  countenance,  as  he  told  his  yarn,  was  more  than 
she  could  stand. 

"So,  last  week,"  Daniel  went  on,  "when  the  changes  in 
the  storeroom  were  completed,  I  went  in  and  took  a  look 
around.  Trout  spent  about  eight  hundred  dollars  on  the 
job.  Of  course  this  enlargement  increases  the  value  of 
the  property  and  demands  higher  rent.  So,  yesterday," 
Daniel  smiled,  "I  notified  him  that  his  rent  was  raised 
twenty-five  dollars  a  month.  He  came  storming  into  my 
office  and  said  the  bills  for  the  repairs  should  be  sent  to 
me.  I  pointed  out  to  him  that  I  couldn't  be  held  legally 
responsible  for  them,  as  I  had  not  had  them  made;  and 
that  he  could  take  his  choice:  pay  the  increased  rent  or 
get  out.  Well,  you  see,  there  was  nothing  else  for  him  to 
do  but  pay  the  higher  rent.  Anything  else  spelt  ruin  for 
him.  He  knew  that  as  well  as  I  did.  He  had  to  swallow 
the  pill,"  grinned  Daniel,  "though  it  did  go  down  hard! 
Yes,  that's  the  way  I  turn  things,  even  little  things, 
right  around  to  my  profit,  Margaret.  Pretty  cute,  isn't 
it?" 

"If  I  were  Mr.  Trout,"  Margaret  returned,  looking 
white,  "  I'd  set  fire  to  your  damned  store  and  burn  it  to  the 
ground!" 

There  was  an  instant's  silent,  awful  consternation,  when 
Margaret  suddenly  laid  down  her  napkin  and  rushed  from 
the  room,  every  nerve  in  her  sick  and  quivering  with  the 
physical  and  moral  disgust  she  felt. 

When  before  returning  to  his  office  Daniel  went  to 
their  bedroom,  where  Margaret,  weak  and  despairing,  lay 
prone  upon  the  bed,  he  found  the  door  locked  against  him. 

[220] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"I  insist  upon  coming  in,  Margaret!" 

"Go  away!"  she  faintly  called. 

"Open  the  door!"  he  commanded. 

"I  won't!  I  can't!  I  don't  dare  to!  I'm  dangerous! 
Go  away  from  me!" 

"Get  up  and  open  this  door!" 

"If  I  did,  I'd — I'd  scratch  you!  Keep  away  from 
me!" 

Daniel  telephoned  for  the  doctor. 

"My  gracious!"  exclaimed  Jennie,  as  they  all  awaited 
the  coming  of  the  physician  in  the  sitting-room,  "Hiram's 
Lizzie  never  carried  on  like  this  when  she  was  expecting! " 

"No,  she  certainly  didn't,"  echoed  Sadie;  "for  all  she 
might  have  had  a  little  more  right  to;  while  Margaret, 
here,  coming  to  Danny  without  nothing  at  all,  up  and 
sasses  him  like  what  she  did  at  dinner  yet!  Don't  it 
wonder  you?  " 

Daniel,  lounging  in  his  own  big  chair  before  the  fire, 
pouted  like  a  thwarted,  spoiled  child. 

"What  got  into  her,  anyhow,  to  act  so  hystericky  all  of  a 
sudden?"  Sadie  speculated. 

"Saying  she'd  set  fire  to  Danny's  store!"  exclaimed 
Jennie  indignantly.  "And  swearing  yet!  My  gracious!" 

"It  certainly  does,  now,  beat  all!"  said  Sadie  mourn- 
fully. 

"I  certainly  didn't  think  she'd  turn  out  like  this!" 
scolded  Jennie.  "You  hadn't  ought  to  have  picked  out  a 
wife,  Danny,  without  me  looking  her  over  for  you 
first." 

"I  can't  do  anything  with  her!"  snapped  Daniel  spite- 

[£21] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

fully.  "Nothing  I  can  say  will  make  her  stop  running 
with  Catherine  Hamilton.  She  tells  me  to  my  face  she 
won't  give  her  up.  And  she  won't,  either!" 

"Och,  Danny,  I  wouldn't  take  it  off  of  her!"  said  Jennie 
harshly. 

"Well,  what  can  a  man  do?"  he  fretfully  demanded. 

"Discharge  Miss  Hamilton." 

"She's  invaluable  to  me.  She's  in  my  confidence  in  a 
business  way.  I  can't  discharge  her.  It  wouldn't  matter 
to  her  anyway.  Every  lawyer  in  town  that  has  any  prac- 
tice would  like  to  employ  her.  What  I'm  afraid  of  is  that 
she'll  resign.  Oh,  if  she  were  afraid  of  losing  her  job,  then 
I  could  easily  fix  Margaret!" 

"It  looks,  Danny,  as  if  Margaret  took  up  with  your 
clerk  just  to  spite  and  worry  you;  for  what  else  would  she 
run  with  her  for?" 

"Well,  if  you'd  hear  them  talking  together  once!" 
Daniel  sullenly  responded. 

"Well,  if  we  did?"  questioned  Jennie  curiously. 

"You  wouldn't  understand  a  word  they  were  saying!" 
snapped  her  brother. 

"Do  they  talk  so  dumb?"  asked  Sadie  wonderingly. 

"They  seem  to  think  it  means  something — the  stuff 
they  get  off  to  each  other!" 

"It  certainly  does  spite  me,  Danny,"  said  Jennie  with 
sympathetic  indignation,  "to  have  your  wife  use  you  like 
this !  And  when  I  think  how  you  could  have  married  most 
anybody!" 

"Here  comes  the  doctor,"  announced  Sadie.  "Sup- 
posing she  won't  leave  him  in  her  room?  " 

[2221 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"Och,  but  that  would  make  talk!"  exclaimed  Jennie. 
"  I'll  go  up  and  tell  her  she  has  to  open ! " 

Margaret,  meantime,  her  sudden  gust  of  passion  sub- 
sided, realized  how  foolishly  she  was  acting. 

"I  can't  say  I  didn't  marry  him  with  my  eyes  open," 
she  prodded  herself.  "/  have  no  right  to  scorn  him  and 
fly  out  at  him.  I  see  that  well  enough,  alas!  I  owe  him 
everything  I  can  reasonably  give  him  to  make  up  for  my 
lack  of  love." 

Her  sense  of  her  obligation  to  Daniel  did  not,  however, 
and  never  could,  include  the  denial  of  such  fundamental 
principles  as  her  friendship  with  Catherine  Hamilton,  or 
her  own  personal  freedom  in  so  far  as  it  did  not  clash  with 
his  just  rights. 

Margaret  was  not  so  stupid  as  to  suppose  for  a  moment 
that  she  could,  by  any  utmost  effort  on  her  part,  lead 
Daniel  to  see  a  case  like  that  of  George  Trout's  store  rent 
as  she  saw  it.  That  he  could  flaunt  and  boast  of  such 
"deals"  proved  him  too  hopelessly  obsessed. 

"If  he  were  ashamed  of  it  and  tried  to  hide  it,  there 
might  be  some  hope  of  redeeming  him.  As  it  is,  I  cer- 
tainly shan't  waste  myself  in  any  such  futile  endeavour. 
But  if  I  outlive  Daniel,  I  shall  pay  to  George  Trout  or  his 
heirs  that  eight  hundred  dollars  on  the  very  day  that  I 
get  possession  of  my  widow's  third.  Or,  if  I  have  a  son, 
he  shall  discharge  that  debt!" 

However,  by  the  time  Jennie  knocked  on  her  door  demand- 
ing admission  for  the  doctor,  she  was  in  a  sufficiently  chast- 
ened frame  of  mind  to  receive  both  him  and  her  husband 
with  all  the  outward  semblance  of  a  dutifully  happy  wife. 

[223] 


XIX 

A3USTOMED  as  Margaret  was  to  the  Southern 
ideal  of  the  chivalry  due  to  a  pregnant  wife; 
reared  in  a  state  where  a  fundamental  principle 
of  marriage  is  that  the  husband's  share  in  the  burden  and 
sacrifice  of  bringing  a  child  into  being  shall  consist  in 
cherishing  the  mother  of  his  child  with  reverence  and 
tenderness,  so  that  her  difficult  ordeal  be  made  as  bearable 
as  unselfish  love  can  make  it,  and  that  she  be  upheld 
throughout  her  trial  by  the  man's  strength  and  devotion; 
and  that  the  husband  who  did  not  so  regard  his  wife  was 
a  cur  to  be  horsewhipped — Margaret  had  to  learn,  during 
her  weary,  waiting  months,  that  this  attitude  of  the  South- 
ern gentleman  would  have  seemed  to  the  average  Penn- 
sylvania German  ridiculous  sentimentality,  his  view  being 
that  woman  was  created,  in  the  Providence  of  God,  to  be  a 
breeder  and  that  was  all  there  was  to  it;  that  in  merely 
fulfilling  her  natural  function  she  was  in  no  more  need  of 
sympathy  or  help  or  compassion  than  a  cow  in  the  same 
condition;  that  her  inclination  during  pregnancy  to  tears, 
tantrums,  fretfulness,  indolence,  a  muddy  complexion,  a 
phlegmatic  indifference  to  everything  except  the  making 
of  baby  clothes,  not  even  her  husband  getting,  at  this  time, 
any  consideration  to  speak  of  at  her  hands — these  things 
were  recognized  by  him  as  burdens  to  be  borne  either  with 

[224] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

stoicism,  or,  for  the  sake  of  the  child,  peremptorily  pro- 
hibited. 

So,  it  was  a  matter  of  wonder  to  Margaret,  rather  than 
of  distress,  that  Daniel  should  be  so  extremely  moderate 
in  his  expression  of  concern  or  sympathy  for  her  condition. 
So  used  as  he  was  to  being  taken  care  of  by  his  sisters,  it 
would  have  been  a  wholly  unnatural  attitude  on  his  part, 
she  saw,  to  be  actively  solicitous  for  a  woman.  He 
would  have  felt  he  lowered  his  dignity  and  made  himself 
absurd  if  he  had  put  himself  out  for  her  comfort  in  the 
many  little  ways  he  might  have  done  and  which  she  had  at 
first  looked  to  see  him  do. 

But,  as  Daniel  told  her  one  day  when  she  expressed 
some  of  the  wonder  she  felt  at  his  lack  of  chivalry  toward 
her,  he  had  never  seen  Hiram  bother  about  Lizzie  when  she 
was  in  that  condition,  and  it  was  after  all  only  Nature. 

"A  baby's  teething  is  only  Nature,  but  we  help  and 
comfort  it,  don't  we?  I  did  expect  you'd  get  a  little 
bit  excited  over  my  health!  It  would  all  be  so  much 
easier  to  bear,"  she  spoke  rather  to  herself  than  to  him, 
knowing  his  impenetrability,  "if  one  were  treated  as  a 
woman!" 

"As  a  woman?"  Daniel  inquired,  puzzled. 

"Yes,  instead  of  as  a  cow." 

"A  cow?" 

"Treated  as  a  Southerner  treats  a  woman." 

"Now  I  should  think,"  was  Daniel's  complacent  re- 
ply, "that  when  a  husband  acts  toward  his  wife  as  I  saw 
your  brother-in-law  act  toward  your  sister,  like  a  butler 
or  a  porter,  she  wouldn't  respect  him." 

[225] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"The  mediaeval  peasant  idea  that  if  her  husband  doesn't 
beat  her,  he  doesn't  love  her,"  said  Margaret. 

But  the  dreariness  of  mind  Daniel's  attitude  caused  her 
she,  with  a  sort  of  mediaeval  superstition,  almost  welcomed 
as  being  at  least  some  expiation  for  the  sin  of  her  loveless 
marriage. 

Margaret  was  disappointed  to  find,  as  the  days  passed 
over  her  head,  that  because  of  her  inability  to  ride  on  the 
cars  without  great  physical  distress,  she  was  obliged  to 
postpone  the  promised  visit  to  her  mother-in-law;  and  at 
last,  when  her  appearance  made  the  little  trip  no  longer 
possible,  she  wrote  to  Mrs.  Leitzel  and  explained  the 
reason  for  her  not  keeping  her  promise. 

"But  just  as  soon  as  your  grandchild  is  able  to  travel," 
she  concluded  her  letter,  "I  shall  bring  it  (not  knowing  its 
gender)  out  to  see  you." 

It  seemed  to  Margaret  that,  unaggressive  though  she 
was,  the  weeks  before  her  confinement  were  constantly 
marked  by  contentions,  apparently  inevitable,  between 
her  and  Daniel  about  the  many  things  of  life  which  they 
viewed  from  diametrically  opposed  standpoints.  Her 
monthly  account  of  her  expenditures  with  her  ten  dollars 
allowance  was  one  of  these  points  of  difference.  The  first 
time  Daniel  asked  her  to  produce  the  little  account  book 
he  had  given  her  she  took  it  from  her  desk,  scribbled  a 
few  words  in  it,  and  cheerfully  handed  it  to  him,  and  he 
read  on  one  page,  "Daniel  gave  me  ten  dollars,"  and  on 
the  opposite  page,  "All  spent.  Balances  exactly." 

Daniel  looked  up  from  the  book  inquiringly. 

"That's  as  much  of  an  account  as  you'll  ever  get  from 
[226] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

me,  Daniel,  as  to  what  I  did  with  ten  dollars  in  a  whole 
month!  Did  you  actually  suppose  I'd  give  you  the  items, 
like  a  little  school-girl?  " 

And  no  amount  of  persuasion,  or  of  fretting  and  fuming 
on  his  part,  could  induce  her  to  submit  to  him  an  itemized 
account  of  her  allowance. 

Her  South  Carolina  property  was  another  bone  of  con- 
tention. 

"I  can't  get  a  word  from  that  brother-in-law  of  yours 
in  reply  to  my  letter  to  him!"  Daniel  complained  one 
September  evening  when  they  were  alone  in  their  bed- 
room just  after  supper,  Margaret,  in  a  pink  silk  neglige, 
lying  on  a  couch  at  the  foot  of  the  bed  and  Daniel  seated 
in  an  armchair  beside  her.  "The  slipshod  business  ways 
of  those  Southerners!  «  What  does  the  man  mean?" 

"He's  such  a  procrastinator!  I  must  admit  Walter's 
rather  lazy.  Clever,  though.  He's  considered  a  mighty 
intelligent  lawyer." 

"A  clever  lawyer  has  some  sense  of  business,  which  he 
does  not  seem  to  have ! " 

"Don't  you  be  so  sure  of  that!" 

"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"Oh,  nothing." 

"Well,  he  does  seem  to  have  enough  sense  of  business 
about  him  to  defraud  you  out  of  what  belongs  to  you!" 
snapped  Daniel. 

"Walter  is  an  honourable  gentleman,"  Margaret  quietly 
affirmed,  "with  a  sense  of  honour,  Daniel,  that  to  you 
would  be  as  incomprehensible  as  a  Sanscrit  manuscript, 
or  a  page  of  Henry  James." 

[227] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"The  quixotic  'sense  of  honour'  of  a  South  Carolinian!" 
scoffed  Daniel.  "Oh,  I  know  all  about  that.  Imprac- 
ticable moonshine !  Nothing  in  it,  Margaret.  Has  no  mar- 
ket value." 

"No,  thank  God,  it  has  no  market  value." 

"You're  a  little  simpleton,  my  dear,  about  'values'  of  any 
kind,  and  I  wish  you  wouldn't  swear!" 

"  Can't  one  thank  God  except  in  church  and  at  the  vulgar 
hour  of  feeding?" 

"Be  reverent!"  Daniel,  looking  shocked,  reproved  her. 
"And  I  don't  see  where  his  sense  of  honour  comes  in  in  his 
behaviour  as  to  your  property!" 

"Don't  bother  about  my  property,  Daniel,"  Margaret 
wearily  advised.  "It's  not  worth  bothering  about." 

"It's  all  you  have,  though,"  Daniel  ruefully  retorted. 

Margaret  offered  no  reply  to  this. 

"I  want  you  to  write  to  Walter,  Margaret,  and  see 
whether  you  can  get  an  answer  out  of  him." 

"What  about?" 

"What  about?  Haven't  I  just  been  telling  you?  You 
write  and  demand  of  him  why  I  receive  no  answer  from 
him  to  my  repeated  inquiries  as  to  your  property." 

"But  I  have  told  you  all  there  is  to  know  about  it, 
Daniel." 

"Margaret,"  Daniel  patiently  answered,  "I  have  al- 
ready explained  to  you  how  I  can  make  that  estate  yield  you 
a  handsome  income." 

"By  depriving  my  sister  of  a  home?     No,  thank  you." 

"Naturally  your  sister  would  also  profit  by  what  I 
would  do  for  the  estate." 

[228] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"Profit  at  your  expense?  Not  if  you  could  help  it, 
Daniel." 

Daniel  laughed  appreciatively  at  this  flattering  tribute 
to  his  business  acumen. 

"I  think  I  see,  Daniel,  how  you  would  manage  the 
'deal.'  You'd  improve  the  estate,  rent  it  at  a  high  figure, 
and  keep  the  rent  (at  least  my  share,  if  not  my  sister's) 
to  pay  you  for  what  you  had  spent." 

"Pretty  good,  my  dear!  You  have  some  business  clev- 
erness yourself,  I  see,  after  all!  Sufficient,  at  any  rate, 
to  recognize  that  you  ought  to  be  getting  your  share 
of  your  uncle's  bequest.  Just  inform  your  brother-in-law, 
in  your  letter,  that  you  are  going  to  sign  over  to  me  the 
power  of  attorney  to  manage  your  affairs.  That  will  bring 
him  to  time  and  fetch  an  answer!" 

"But  I'm  not." 

"Not  what?" 

"Not  going  to  sign  away  any  'power'  I  may  have.  I 
didn't  know  I  had  any.  It's  a  pleasant  surprise.  I  shall 
certainly  hold  on  to  it.  I  need  it,  whatever  it  is." 

"Without  power  of  attorney  to  act  for  you,  Margaret, 
I  can't  help  you.  You'll  have  to  give  it  to  me,"  said  Daniel 
firmly.  "I'll  bring  up  a  paper  from  the  office  on  Monday 
and  Jennie  and  Sadie  will  witness  your  signature.  Can't 
you  get  up  and  write  to  Walter  now  ?  I'll  dictate  the 
letter." 

"I  wouldn't  rise  from  this  comfortable  couch,  Daniel,  if 
the  house  were  on  fire." 

"  It's  very  bad,  very  bad  indeed,  I'm  sure,  for  you  to  lie 
about  so  much." 

[229] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"If  you  were  carrying  a  weight  of  several  tons,  I  guess 
you  wouldn't  be  on  your  feet  when  you  didn't  have  to." 

"'Several  tons?'  That's  a  gross  exaggeration,  Mar- 
garet." 

"I  never  was  strong  on  figures  or  statistics,"  Margaret 
admitted. 

"Won't  you  try  to  get  up  and  write  the  letter?  I  very 
much  wish  you  to,"  urged  Daniel,  still  quite  unable  to 
credit  the  fact  which  in  these  days  frequently  confronted 
him,  that  any  feminine  member  of  his  household  could  fail 
to  jump  at  his  least  bidding. 

"  What  do  you  want  me  to  write?  "  Margaret  parried. 

"Great  heavens!"  Daniel  cried,  exasperated.  "I've 
told  you  only  about  a  dozen  times ! " 

"A  dozen?  A  gross  exaggeration,  I'm  sure.  And  to 
call  upon  the  heavens  is  irreverent.  There,  there,  I  won't 
tease  you,"  she  patted  his  hand;  and  he  immediately 
clasped  and  held  it,  for  he  still  adored  her.  "But  as  I've 
told  you,  Daniel,  that  I  won't  sign  over  to  you  the  power 
of  attorney,  there's  nothing  to  write  to  Walter  about." 

"Is  this  your  idea  of  not  'teasing'  me?  I've  said  that 
without  the  power  of  attorney,  I  can't  help  you." 

"I  don't  want  that  kind  of  help,  my  dear,  thank  you  very 
much." 

"Will  you  write  the  letter  before  I  go  to  the  office  to- 
morrow morning?  " 

"Telling  Walter  I'm  not  signing  over  to  you  the  power 
of  attorney?  Is  that  necessary?  " 

"Very  well,  Margaret."  Daniel  rose  with  dignity  and 
turned  away  from  her.  "I'll  dictate  to  my  stenographer 

[230] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

what  I  wish  you  to  say  to  Walter  and  I'll  bring  the  letter 
up  from  the  office  for  your  signature." 

"Daniel!"  Margaret  suddenly  exclaimed  at  mention  of 
his  stenographer. 

He  turned  about  and  looked  at  her. 

"Did  you  give  Catherine  the  note  I  sent  her  this  morn- 
ing?" 

"I  certainly  did  not." 

"Why  not?" 

"  You  ask  me  to  play  the  messenger  boy  to  my  own  clerk ! 
I  read  your  silly  note,  my  dear,  and  burned  it." 

Margaret,  sinking  a  bit  lower  among  the  cushions  of  the 
couch,  did  not  trust  herself  to  answer. 

"Now,  my  dear,"  said  Daniel,  "since  you  can  no  longer 
go  out,  you  can  take  advantage  of  the  chance  that  fact 
gives  you,  to  drop  this  unseemly  intimacy,  which  no  doubt 
by  this  time  you  find  burdensome  enough,  especially  as 
you  have  seen  how  exceedingly  annoying  it  is  to  my  sisters 
and  to  me.  We  are  willing  to  overlook  your  having 
flouted  our  wishes  if  you'll  now " 

"Has  Miss  Hamilton  been  to  see  me  and  been  turned 
away?"  demanded  Margaret,  who  for  the  past  two  weeks 
had  neither  seen  nor  heard  a  word  from  her  friend,  her 
notes  and  telephone  calls  having  both  failed  to  bring  any 
response.  She  had  been  deeply  wounded  and  worried 
at  Catherine's  seeming  unfaithfulness  to  her  in  her  time  of 
dire  need;  and  she  had  suffered  keenly  from  the  deadly 
loneliness  that  had  engulfed  her;  for  she  had,  through  almost 
daily  association  for  many  weeks,  become  so  deeply  bound 
to  Catherine  that  she  felt  she  could  never  again  know 

[231] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

happiness  if  she  lost  her.  While  she  had  indeed  suspected 
that  some  treachery  on  the  part  of  the  Leitzels  was  keep- 
ing Catherine  away,  yet  she  did  not  understand  how  her 
friend  could  possibly  have  failed  to  receive  at  least  some 
of  the  communications  she  had  sent  to  her;  letters  which 
she  would  have  supposed  must  bring  Catherine  to  her  side, 
if  she  had  to  storm  the  house  to  get  there. 

"Have  your  sisters  sent  my  friend  away  when  she  came 
to  see  me  and  kept  it  from  me  that  she  was  here?"  Mar- 
garet repeated  in  a  tone  so  quiet  that  Daniel  never  sus- 
pected the  volcano  it  covered. 

"  She  has  been  told  by  Jennie  every  time  she  called  that 
you  wished  to  be  excused.  This  unseemly  intimacy  is 
to  cease!  You  will  have  to  understand,  Margaret,  that 
I  am  not  a  man  to  be  trifled  with  by  a  mere  woman — a 
mere  girl,  I  might  say!" 

"Brave  and  manly  of  you,  Daniel,  certainly." 

"If  you  don't  watch  out,  you  will  be  the  cause  of  my 
losing  the  most  valuable  clerk  in  New  Munich  and  one  to 
whom  I  have  confided  important  private  business  matters, 
for,  if  I  must,  I  shall  tell  her  straight  that  I  object  to  her 
running  after  my  wife!" 

"Oh!" 

"  I  have  already  hinted  to  her  that  you  are  at  last  coming 
to  your  senses  and  getting  over  your  silly  infatuation  for 
her.  I  intimated  to  her  that  it  was  only  your  appreciation 
of  her  valuable  services  to  me  which  had  led  you  to  be  very 
nice  and  friendly  to  her." 

"Do  you  suppose  for  an  instant,  Daniel,  that  she  was 
idiot  enough  to  believe  that?" 

[232] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"Why  shouldn't  she  believe  it?" 

"Because  she  knows  me — and  she  also  knows  you." 

But  though  Margaret  assured  herself  many  times  in 
the  course  of  the  wakeful,  restless  night  which  followed 
that  Catherine  would  not  believe  Daniel's  absurd  story 
nor  let  the  family  attitude  toward  her  come  between 
them,  she  really  suffered  an  agony  of  doubt  and  fear 
lest  the  friendship  so  precious  to  her  should  not  be 
able  to  stand  under  the  pressure  brought  to  bear  upon 
it. 

"Surely  Catherine  will  think  I  am  asking  too  much  of 
her,  to  expect  her  to  stick  to  me  through  all  this!  But 
oh!  I  can't  give  her  up,  I  can't!  I  will  not  let  them  sep- 
arate us ! " 

The  next  morning,  as  soon  as  Daniel  had  left  the  house 
for  his  office,  she  hurried  to  the  telephone  and  called  up 
Miss  Hamilton,  knowing  that  her  only  chance  of  getting 
Catherine  was  when  Daniel  was  not  hi  his  office.  She 
actually  trembled  with  apprehension  for  fear  she  should 
be  told  that  Miss  Hamilton  had  not  yet  reached  the  office. 
But  to  her  joy  it  was  Catherine's  own  voice  that  answered 
her. 

"Oh,  Catherine!  It's  Margaret!  Catherine,  listen! 
I've  been  wanting  you  so!  I  didn't  know  why  you  didn't 
come,  and  I  only  learned  last  night.  Catherine,  I'm 
coming  right  down  to  the  office,  now,  in  a  taxicab,  and  I 
want  you  to  come  out  with  me  for  an  hour,  for  I  must  see 
you  to  straighten  things  out.  Tell  the  powers  that  be 
that  you've  a  headache  or  small-pox  symptoms  or  some- 
thing and  just  come.  Will  you?" 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"I  will,  dear.  I'll  leave  a  note  on  my  desk  and  walk 
out  now,  and  meet  you  at  the  door  when  you  get  here." 

"I'll  be  as  quick  as  I  can." 

She  hung  up  the  receiver.  But  just  as  she  was  going  to 
lift  it  again,  to  call  the  taxicab  office,  her  eyes  fell  upon 
Jennie  and  Sadie  congregated  a  few  feet  away  from  her, 
Sadie  staring  at  her  in  consternation  and  Jennie  in  wrath 
and  indignation. 

"Margaret!"  Jennie  suddenly  came  to  her  and  forcibly 
pushed  her  from  the  telephone.  "You  ain't  to  call  a 
taxicab,  so  you  ain't,  Margaret!  Our  Danny  ain't  to  be 
spited  so  when  I'm  close  by ! " 

"Very  well,"  answered  Margaret  coolly,  "I'll  go  next 
door  and  use  Mrs.  Kaufman's  telephone." 

"But,"  gasped  Sadie,  "that'll  make  talk  yet!" 

Margaret,  not  replying,  started  for  the  door. 

"Margaret!"  cried  Jennie  sharply,  hurrying  after  her 
and  catching  her  arm,  "how  that'll  look  yet — you  going 
into  the  neighbours'  to  'phone!  You  darsent  go  round  to 
our  neighbours'  making  talk ! "  she  commanded.  "  I  won't 
leave  you  do  it!" 

"Then  will  you  let  me  use  the  telephone  here?  " 

"No,  I  won't,  not  for  no  such  a  purpose — to  go  down  to 
see  our  Danny's  clerk  when  he  don't  give  you  dare  to. 
You're  near  worrying  my  poor  brother  to  death  with  the 
way  you  act ! " 

"Please  let  go  my  arm,  Jennie." 

"You  pass  me  your  promise,  then,  that  you'll  behave 
yourself.  You're  all  the  time  raising  excitements  in  our 
peaceful  home  that  gives  Sadie  the  indigestion!" 

[2341 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

Margaret  wrenched  herself  free  and  went  to  the  front 
door;  but  Jennie  got  there  first,  turned  the  key  and  re- 
moved it  from  the  lock. 

"I  ain't  leaving  you  disgrace  us  with  our  neighbours!" 
she  indignantly  affirmed. 

Margaret,  looking  white  but  resolute,  went  to  a  side 
window,  raised  it,  and  called  into  the  Kaufmans'  dining- 
room  where  the  family  was  then  breakfasting,  while  Jennie 
and  Sadie,  foiled,  but  horrified  and  incredulous  of  her  au- 
dacity, fell  back. 

"Will  you  please  be  so  very  kind,  Mrs.  Kaufman," 
Margaret  called  across  the  space  between  the  two  windows, 
when  Mrs.  Kaufman  had  raised  hers,  "as  to  'phone  for  a 
taxicab  for  me  at  once.  I  have  to  hurry  down  to  Mr. 
Leitzel's  office.  I  shall  be  so  much  obliged,  and  I'm  very 
sorry  to  trouble  you  at  breakfast." 

"We're  just  done,  Mrs.  Leitzel,  and  I'll  be  very  glad  to 
oblige  you.  Nothing  wrong,  I  hope?" 

"No,  but  I  must  get  to  the  office  as  quickly  as  I  can. 
Will  you  please  tell  them  to  hurry  with  the  taxicab,  Mrs. 
Kaufman?" 

"Yes,  of  course  I  will — don't  mention  it!  Your  tele- 
phone out  of  order?" 

"I  can't  use  it,"  said  Margaret,  and  with  a  nod  and  a 
smile,  she  closed  the  window. 

She  turned  slowly  and  looked  at  her  sisters-in-law. 
They,  almost  leaning  upon  each  other  for  support,  were 
regarding  her  as  though  she  were  a  dangerous  lunatic. 
Without  a  word,  she  went  past  them  and  upstairs  to  get 
her  wraps.  When  she  came  down  five  minutes  later  the 

[235] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

taxicab  was  at  the  door  and  Jennie  was  at  the  'phone  call- 
ing up  Daniel's  office. 

Margaret  found,  however,  that  the  front  door  was  now 
unlocked.  They  evidently  felt  too  uncertain  of  her  to 
try  her  any  further. 


[236] 


XX 


MARGARET  wondered  whether,  if  Jennie  suc- 
ceeded in  warning  Daniel  of  her  coming,  he 
would  again  contrive  to  prevent  Catherine's 
seeing  her. 

"Wouldn't  it  make  a  good  Movie!  I  might  have  it 
copyrighted!"  she  shrugged. 

But  she  told  the  chauffeur  to  hurry,  hoping  that  she 
might,  even  yet,  get  to  the  office  before  Daniel  got  there. 

"If  I  don't,  and  if  he  tries  to  keep  Catherine  from 
coming  down  to  me — well,  if  I  didn't  look  such  a  sight,  I 
would  go  right  up  into  the  office!" 

When,  however,  the  taxicab  drew  up  before  the  building 
of  which  the  second  floor  was  occupied  by  Daniel's  law 
offices,  and  she  leaned  for  an  instant  out  of  the  cab  window, 
she  saw  her  husband  coming  down  the  street.  Jennie, 
then,  had  been  too  early  for  him.  Margaret  looked  about 
hastily  for  Catherine,  but  she  saw  nothing  of  her.  She 
shrank  far  back,  then,  in  the  cab  to  prevent  Daniel's  see- 
ing her,  for  he  was  now  close  by. 

She  saw  him  hesitate  at  the  door  of  the  building  and 
glance  inquiringly  at  the  cab;  then,  curiosity  moving  him, 
for  Daniel  had  the  petty  curiosity  of  an  unoccupied  wo- 
man, he  came  over  to  the  curb  and  looked  into  the  window 
of  the  cab. 

[237] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

Margaret  met  his  glance  calmly.  All  she  cared  about 
was  that  he  should  not  prevent  her  meeting  Catherine. 

"  Why,  Margaret !  You  out  of  doors !  What  for?  You 
came  for  me  ?  Is  anything  wrong  ? ' ' 

"  I  came  out  for  some  fresh  air." 

"But  to  come  out  on  the  street!"  he  protested,  scan- 
dalized. 

"I'm  not  exposed  to  view." 

"But  the  chauffeur  has  seen  you!"  whispered  Daniel, 
actually  colouring  with  embarrassment. 

"He  doesn't  mind  it  nearly  as  much  as  you  do,  Daniel. 
I  think  he'll  recover;  he  looks  robust." 

"But  what  have  you  come  down  to  my  office  for? " 

As  Margaret  at  this  moment  saw  Catherine  coming 
out  of  the  building,  she  promptly  answered,  "To  see  Miss 
Hamilton  and  clear  matters  up  with  her.  Here  she  is 
now." 

Daniel  turned  about  sharply,  and  Catherine,  nodding  a 
cheerful  good-morning  to  him,  stepped  into  the  cab  and 
bent  over  Margaret  to  kiss  her. 

"But,  Miss  Hamilton,"  cried  Daniel  as  his  clerk  settled 
herself  comfortably  beside  his  wife,  "why  are  you  not  at 
your  desk?" 

"I  left  a  note  on  your  desk,  Mr.  Leitzel,  asking  you  to 
excuse  me  for  an  hour.  I  shall  be  back  before  ten,"  she 
replied,  drawing  the  cab  door  shut  and  speaking  to  him 
through  the  open  window. 

"To  the  park,"  Margaret  ordered  the  chauffeur. 
"Good-bye,  Daniel." 

"Miss  Hamilton,"  faltered  Daniel,  but  before  he  could 
[2381 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

collect  his  wits  to  decide  how  he  ought  to  meet  so  unprece- 
dented a  situation,  the  car  started  and  whirled  down  the 
street. 

Slowly  and  thoughtfully  he  turned  into  his  office  build- 
ing. Never  before  in  all  his  life  had  his  will  been  so  frus- 
trated as  by  this  young  wife  of  his  hearth  and  home  upon 
whom  he  showered  every  comfort,  every  luxury  and  in- 
dulgence. That  any  one  whom  he  supported  should  dis- 
obey, defy,  and  thwart  him!  It  was  beyond  belief.  How 
did  she  dare  to  do  it? 

"But  what's  a  man  to  do  with  a  wife  who  doesn't  care 
for  his  displeasure  any  more  than  if  he  were  an  old  cat!" 
he  raged.  "Oh,  well,"  he  tried  to  console  himself,  "it 
won't  be  long,  now,  until  the  baby  comes,  and  then  surely 
she'll  be  different.  She'll  have  to  be !  I'll  find  some  means 
of  teaching  her  that  my  wishes  can't  be  disregarded! " 

Miss  Hamilton's  note  which  he  found  on  his  desk  stated 
succinctly  that  she  had  an  imperative  engagement  this 
morning  which  would  make  her  an  hour  late. 

Daniel,  sinking  limply  into  his  desk-chair,  crushed  the 
note  in  his  long,  thin  fingers  and  tossed  it  into  his  waste- 
basket,  with  the  murderous  wish  that  it  was  his  clerk's 
head  he  was  smashing. 

"  What  will  they  be  when  they  get  the  vote?  "  he  groaned. 
"Women,"  he  said  spitefully  but  epigrammatically,  "are 
the  pest  of  men's  lives ! " 

Margaret,  meantime,  without  once  directly  referring 
to  her  husband  and  his  sisters,  had  managed  to  convey  to 
Catherine  an  explanation  of  the  silence  and  desolation  that 
had  existed  between  them  during  the  past  two  weeks;  and 

f  2391 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

she  was  now  making  a  compact  with  her  which  she  felt 
must  insure  them  both  against  any  future  misunderstand- 
ing. 

"Tell  me  first,  Catherine,  that  our  friendship  means 
more  to  you  than — than  any  petty  considerations !  Please, 
Catherine,  tell  me  that  it  does !  For  I  just  must  have  you, 
you  know!  You  are  more  to  me  than  I  can  possibly  be 
to  you,  for  you  have  your  mother,  while  I " 

She  hesitated  and  Catherine  said,  "And  you,  Margaret, 
will  soon  have  your  child.  Will  that  make  you  need  me 
any  less  ?  I  don't  believe  it  will,  dear.  And  my  other 
dear  ones  can't  in  the  least  fill  your  place  in  my  life.  I 
can't  give  you  up  any  more  than  you  can  spare  me. 
Nothing,"  she  said  with  decision,  "shall  separate  us." 

"Then,"  said  Margaret,  pressing  Catherine's  hand, 
"hereafter,  when  you  come  to  see  me,  ring  the  bell  four 
times  by  twos,  and  I,  knowing  about  the  hour  to  look  for 
you,  will  be  on  hand  to  let  you  in  myself." 

"All  right.     I  will." 

"  Catherine !    You  are  large-minded ! " 

"My  dear!"  protested  Catherine,  "'large-minded'  to 
be  indifferent  to  the  eccentricities  of — well,"  she  closed 
her  lips  on  the  rest  of  her  sentence,  "two  illiterate,  vulgar 
old  women,"  was  what  she  had  nearly  said;  but  she  left 
it  to  Margaret's  imagination  to  finish  her  remark. 

"While  you  are  ill  in  bed,  I  suppose  I  shan't  be  able  to 
get  near  you,"  she  ventured.  "It  will  be  dreadful  if  I 
have  to  wait  nearly  a  month  before  I  can  see  that  baby! 
It's  going  to  be  awfully  dear  to  me,  Margaret!  Next 
thing  to  having  one  of  my  own." 

[240] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"I  couldn't  wait  a  whole  month  to  show  it  to  you.  I'll 
ask  the  doctor  to  bring  you  to  me." 

"We'll  manage  somehow,"  affirmed  Catherine. 

Margaret,  looking  rather  pale,  did  not  answer,  and 
Catherine  suddenly  put  her  arms  about  her  and  kissed 
her. 

"You  poor  child!"  she  said  tenderly. 

"I'm  not  a  good  fighter,"  Margaret  sadly  shook  her 
head.  "And  there  are  so  many,  many  adjustments  to  be 
made,  I " 

She  stopped  short  and  bit  her  lips  to  keep  back  the 
tears  that  sprang  to  her  eyes. 

"At  least,"  said  Catherine  encouragingly,  "you  seem 
to  be  coming  to  your  ordeal,  dear,  with  plenty  of  courage; 
and  that's  the  main  thing  just  now." 

"Oh,  Catherine,  I'm  willing  to  go  through  a  lot  for  the 
sake  of  holding  a  baby  of  my  own  to  my  heart!' 

"Then  you  think,  Margaret,  that  motherhood  is  going 
to  be  all  that  it's  cracked  up  to  be?  " 

"Under  ideal  conditions,"  said  Margaret,  "I  can  see 
nothing  greater  to  be  desired." 

"But  do  the  ideal  conditions  ever  exist?" 

"  I  suppose  they  seldom  do." 

"Sometimes  I've  had  my  doubts,"  said  Catherine. 
"The  male  poets  and  painters  exalt  the  beauty,  the  holi- 
ness of  motherhood,  and  the  women  bear  the  burden  and 
pain  of  it." 

"But  when  women  whose  lives  have  had  the  largest 
horizon — women  like  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning  and 
Margaret  Fuller — have  declared  that  their  motherhood 

[241] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

was  the  crown  and  climax  of  all  their  experiences  of  life, 
I  suppose  the  poets  and  painters  are  not  very  wrong 
about  it,  Catherine." 

"I  hope  they  are  not,  since  all  my  instincts  about  it  are 
entirely  primitive  and  I  feel  that  nothing  in  the  world  will 
compensate  me  if  I've  got  to  go  through  life  childless." 

"There  would  be  one  compensation,"  said  Margaret 
earnestly. 

"What?" 

"Sometimes,  since  I've  known  I  was  going  to  have  a 
child,  the  responsibility,  the  almost  crushing  responsibil- 
ity, has  seemed  more  than  I  could  bear.  That's  what  I 
meant  when  I  spoke  of  ideal  conditions." 

Catherine  held  back  her  mental  reply  to  this,  which  was, 
"Yes,  we  should  be  careful  whom  we  marry,  and  why  did 
you  tie  up  with  a  little  rat  like  Danny  Leitzel?  " 

What  she  did  say  was:  "You  didn't  feel  this  crushing 
sense  of  responsibility  until  after  you  found  yourself  preg- 
nant?" 

"No.  Before  that  I  thought  only  of  my  own  happiness 
in  having  a  baby  to  cherish.  But,  Catherine,  when  we 
look  about  us  and  see  what  life  can  do  to  us,  I  wonder 
how  we  ever  dare,  under  any  conditions,  to  bring  a  child 
into  this  awful  world ! " 

"We  can't  question  the  foundations  of  the  universe, 
however." 

"No,  but  we  can  question  modern  civilization,  which 
produces  a  huge  population  of  criminals,  lunatics,  degen- 
erates, and  incapables." 

"Think  of  pleasant  things,  my  dear!" 
[242] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"I  try  to.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  in  spite  of  my  heavy 
sense  of  responsibility,  I  can  hardly  wait,  Catherine,  until 
I  have  my  baby!  I  want  to  show  you  the  lovely  little 
embroidered  dress  Harriet  sent  me.  Will  you  come  in 
to  see  it  and  me  this  afternoon  after  four  o'clock?" 

"Yes." 

"I'll  be  on  the  watch." 

"All  right,"  Catherine  nodded. 

"The  baby  received  another  present,  the  other  day, 
which  touched  me  very  much,"  added  Margaret.  "A 
cunning  pair  of  socks  from  its  grandmother  which  she 
knit  herself." 

"  Its  grandmother?    But " 

"  I  mean  Mr.  Leitzel's  step-mother." 

"Oh!" 

"  Did  you  ever  happen  to  see  her,  Catherine?  " 

"Once.     She  came  to  the  office  once  to  see  Mr.  Leitzel." 

Catherine's  tone  of  withdrawal,  as  though  she  feared  to 
be  questioned,  piqued  Margaret's  interest. 

"What  was  your  impression  of  her?" 

"Margaret,  your  husband's  mother  has  an  unforget- 
table face!  There's  a  benediction  in  it,  such  sweetness, 
refinement,  and  simplicity  shine  in  her  countenance. 
When  she  had  talked  to  me  for  a  while,  I  felt  as  a  good 
Catholic  must  who  has  been  blessed  by  the  Pope.  Just 
the  sort  of  person  (with  a  heart  too  tender  to  hurt  a  fly) 
to  be  herself  easily  victimized  by  the  human  vultures  that 
prey  upon  the  too  confiding." 

"Has  anybody  victimized  her?"  Margaret  casually  in- 
quired. 

[243] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

Catherine  hesitated  an  instant  before  she  answered: 
"Righteousness  is  sometimes  a  breastplate  to  protect  the 
otherwise  defenceless.  It  is  that  dear  old  woman's  extraor- 
dinary conscientiousness  that  has  saved  her  from  being 
entirely  devoured  by  the  vultures,  though  she  has  certainly 
been  gnawed  at  pretty  hard.  I  can't  explain  to  you,  now, 
just  what  I  mean.  Some  day,  perhaps." 

"Oh,  do  tell  me,  Catherine." 

Again  Catherine  hesitated  before  she  replied:  "She 
made  a. certain  promise  to  her  husband  on  his  deathbed 
which  her  conscience  has  never  allowed  her  to  break, 
though  she  has  always  believed  that  she  was  acting  against 
her  own  interests  in  keeping  it.  But  it's  her  loyalty  to 
her  promise  that's  been  her  breastplate;  that  has  saved  her 
from  the  vultures." 

Margaret  considered  in  silence  this  suggestive  bit  of  in- 
formation. It  was  rather  more  lucid  to  her  than  Cather- 
ine suspected.  But  she  was  impressed  with  the  sudden 
realization  she  had  of  her  friend's  intimate  knowledge  of 
Daniel's  affairs  and  it  flashed  upon  her  that  perhaps  his 
seemingly  unreasonable  objections  to  their  intimacy  might 
have  quite  another  explanation  than  that  he  had  given  it. 

In  this,  however,  she  was  mistaken.  Daniel  entirely 
trusted  the  discretion  of  his  clerk.  Not  so  much  because 
he  believed  her  bound  in  honour  to  keep  his  secrets  as 
because  it  was  the  part  of  a  first-class  clerk  (which  she 
was)  to  be  discreetly  silent  as  to  her  employer's  business  op- 
erations. 

"And  now,  my  dear,"  Catherine  broke  in  on  her  thoughts, 
"since  we've  threshed  things  out  and  have  made  a  com- 

[244] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

pact  that  we  will  not  again  misunderstand  each  other,  I 
think  I'd  better  get  back  to  my  'job.'" 

Margaret  gave  the  order  to  the  chauffeur;  and  when  a 
little  while  later,  alone  in  the  taxicab  on  her  way  home, 
she  found  her  heart  overflowing  with  a  sense  of  the  fulness, 
the  richness  of  life,  and  considered  how  strenuously  Daniel 
and  his  sisters  tried  to  take  from  her  the  comfort,  the 
happiness,  of  companionship  with  Catherine  and  how  im- 
possible it  would  be  to  make  them  see  what  that  com- 
panionship meant  to  her,  she  felt  greatly  strengthened  in 
her  resolve  to  resist,  steadily  and  persistently,  their  ag- 
gressions upon  her  personal  liberty. 

At  her  own  door,  as  she  opened  her  purse  to  pay  for  the 
cab,  she  found  she  had  remaining  of  her  monthly  allow- 
ance only  two  dollars  and  the  chauffeur's  price  was  three 
dollars.  She  hesitated  an  instant,  then  telling  the  man 
to  charge  the  cab  to  Mr.  Leitzel,  she  got  out  hastily  and 
went  indoors. 

"Rather  hard  on  Daniel  to  make  him  pay  the  costs  of 
my  plots  gotten  up  to  circumvent  his  plots!  He  won't 
like  it.  Ah,  I've  a  bright  idea!  I'll  tell  him  to  deduct 
the  three  dollars  from  my  next  'allowance.'  That  will 
appease  him." 

But  on  second  thoughts  she  realized  that  that  same 
bright  idea  would  surely  occur  to  Daniel  without  any  sug- 
gestion from  her. 


245 


XXI 

MARGARET  felt  an  impersonal  curiosity  as  to 
what  Daniel  would  say  to  her  when  he  came 
home  to  his  dinner  at  noon.  Jennie  and  Sadie 
were  also  curious  as  to  that.  But  Daniel  himself  was 
curious,  too.  How  was  a  husband  to  meet  such  unnatural 
behaviour  in  a  wife?  Did  other  men's  wives  so  disre- 
gard their  husbands'  wishes  and  commands?  If  women 
got  much  more  independent  it  would  break  up  the  holy 
estate  of  matrimony  altogether. 

He  finally  decided,  on  his  homeward  walk,  that  about 
the  only  course  open  to  him  was  to  take  refuge  in  a  dignified 
silence,  though  now  that  Margaret's  time  was  drawing 
near,  he  felt  sufficiently  apprehensive  of  the  outcome  to  be 
very  leniently  inclined  toward  her.  Funny  how  he  cared 
for  her  when  she  treated  him  the  way  she  did !  He  could 
not  help  it,  somehow.  She  certainly  had  a  way  with  her! 
Well,  when  she  was  over  her  trial  and  quite  herself  again, 
he'd  have  another  try  at  bringing  her  to  a  proper  sense  of 
the  consideration  to  which  he  was  accustomed  and  which 
was  his  due. 

He  wondered  uneasily  what  the  people  of  the  town 
thought  of  this  incongruous  intimacy  between  his  clerk 
and  his  wife.  It  certainly  passed  his  comprehension  as 
much  as  it  did  that  of  his  sisters  that  a  girl  as  "high- 

[246] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

toned"  as  Margaret  was  should  insist  upon  being  intimate 
with  his  stenographer.  That  Miss  Hamilton  was  equally 
"high-toned,"  he  was  incapable  of  recognizing.  Jennie 
had  voiced  his  own  sentiments  when  a  few  days  before 
she  had  exclaimed,  "When  she  could  run  with  anybody,  she 
goes  and  picks  out  an  office  clerk!  It's  nothing  else, 
Danny,  but  that  she's  bound  to  act  contrary,  to  show 
us  she  don't  care  if  she  didn't  bring  you  a  dollar  to  her 
name!" 

However,  a  letter  which  he  found  on  the  hall  table  when 
he  reached  home  diverted  not  only  his  own  attention, 
but  that  of  the  whole  household,  from  Margaret's  case. 

It  was  from  the  school  teacher  of  Martz  Township,  who 
wrote  in  behalf  of  his  step-mother;  and  after  dinner,  as 
the  family  sat  together,  as  was  their  custom,  in  the  sitting- 
room,  for  an  hour  before  Daniel  went  again  to  his  office — 
Jennie  and  Sadie  fussing  about  him  to  make  him  comfort- 
able, adjusting  the  window-blind,  placing  his  chair,  hand- 
ing him  the  newspaper,  retying  his  necktie,  brushing  his 
coat  collar — Daniel  presently  opened  and  read  the  letter 
he  had  received. 

Margaret  listened  to  it  and  to  the  lengthy  discussion 
which  followed  with  an  attention  that  was  to  bear  early 
and  abundant  fruit. 

"DEAR  FRIEND: 

"I  am  writing  for  Mrs.  Leitzel,  to  leave  you  know  she  had  it 
so  bad  in  her  lungs  here  the  past  couple  weeks  the  neighbours 
thought  it  would  give  pneumonia,  but  she  got  better  and  now 
she's  up  again,  but  very  weak,  and  I'm  leaving  you  know  that 
we  think  she  ought  not  to  live  alone  a  half  a  mile  away  from  her 

[247] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

nearest  neighbour,  because  if  she  got  so  sick  that  she  couldn't 
help  herself,  she  might  die  before  her  neighbours  found  it  out  yet 
that  she  needed  help.  And  she's  too  feeble  any  more  to  make 
up  her  fires  and  fetch  her  water  from  the  spring  and  chop  her 
wood.  The  house  not  having  any  modern  improvements,  and 
so  much  out  of  repair,  it  makes  it  harder,  too,  for  such  an  old 
woman.  And  she  has  hardly  anything  to  live  on.  The  neigh- 
bours say  she  had  either  ought  to  have  some  one  with  her,  or  you 
ought  to  take  her  to  your  home  to  live.  If  not,  she'll  have  to 
go  the  poorhouse,  and  that  of  course  you  would  not  want,  either. 

"She  is  better  now  and  says  to  tell  you  not  to  worry,  but  7 
warn  you  she  may  get  down  sick  again  any  time,  as  old  as  what 
she  is.  And  I  think  you  have  got  good  cause  to  worry,  though  I 
told  her  I'd  tell  you  not  to.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  the  neighbours 
doing  for  her  this  last  couple  weeks,  she'd  have  died. 

"Yours  truly, 

"MAYBELLE  RAUCH. 

"P.  S.  She  says  she  sends  her  love  to  all  and  that  you  have 
got  no  need  to  worry." 

But  Daniel  and  his  sisters  did  seem  to  think  they  had 
"need  to  worry"  very  much,  at  the  startling  revelations  of 
this  letter,  not  the  revelations  as  to  their  step-mother's 
sufferings  and  needs,  but  as  to  the  neighbourhood  publicity 
given  to  their  neglect  of  her. 

"To  think  she'd  go  and  have  that  busybody  teacher 
and  all  her  other  neighbours  in  and  complain  to  'em  all 
like  this,  so's  they  write  to  us  yet  and  ask  for  help  for  her! 
Well,  this  beats  all!  She  never  went  this  far  before!" 
scolded  Jennie. 

"Yes,  I  don't  see  why  she  couldn't  leave  us  know  herself 
if  she's  got  any  complaints,  and  not  put  it  out  to  the  whole 
township  like  this!"  Sadie  worried. 

[248] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"It  certainly  will  make  talk  out  there!"  Daniel  frowned. 

"Enough  to  get  into  the  newspapers  if  she  doesn't 
watch  out!" 

"But  how,"  Margaret  ventured  a  question,  "could  she 
let  you  know  except  in  the  way  she's  taking,  since  she 
can't  write  herself?  And  how  could  she  help  having  the 
neighbours  in  if  she  was  ill  and  helpless  and  alone?  " 

"She  could  anyhow  have  sent  us  a  postal  card  to  say 
she  was  sick  and  wanted  one  of  us  to  come  out,"  said 
Jennie. 

"Would  you  have  gone  to  her?" 

"Of  course  one  of  us  would  have  gone." 

"Maybe  she  couldn't  even  write  a  postal  card,  or  get 
out  to  mail  it  if  she  did  write  it,  if  she's  so  old  and  feeble, 
and  was  ill." 

"If  that  was  the  case,"  said  Daniel,  "then  to  avoid  a 
repetition  of  the  occurrence,  I  don't  see  what  else  we  are 
to  do  but  put  her  into  a  home." 

"You  know  how  she's  against  that,  Danny,"  said 
Jennie.  "If  you  decide  to  do  it,  you'll  have  a  time  with 
her !  And  those  neighbours  all  taking  her  part ! " 

"This  impertinent  teacher,"  said  Daniel,  tapping  the 
letter  he  held,  "has  the  face  to  reproach  us,  you  notice, 
for  not  keeping  the  place  in  repair!  It  wasn't  our  business 
to  keep  it  in  repair  when  we  never  get  any  rent  for  it." 

"Yes,  it  does  seem  as  if  Mom  might  have  kept  it  in 
repair  when  she  was  getting  it  rent  free,"  said  Jennie.  "7 
don't  see  why  she  has  not  been  able  to  save  something  in 
all  these  years  from  what  she's  earnt  from  her  vegetable 
garden." 

[2491 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"She  certainly  hasn't  managed  good,"  said  Sadie. 

"And  to  think  of  the  cheek  of  those  neighbours!"  said 
Jennie  wrathfully.  "Saying  we  had  ought  to  take  her  in 
here  to  live  with  us  yet !  As  if  she  was  our  own  flesh  and 
blood!" 

"What  would  Hiram  say  to  something  like  this  coming!" 
Sadie  speculated;  "when  he  thinks  we  did  too  much  in  not 
charging  her  rent." 

"Well,"  Daniel  suddenly  announced  with  a  magnani- 
mous air  that  seemed  to  swell  his  chest,  "I'll  send  her  a 
check.  I'll  send  her  five  dollars.  Maybe  I'll  make  it 
ten." 

"Ten  dollars  yet,  Danny!"  said  Sadie,  regarding  her 
brother  with  affectionate  admiration. 

"I'm  not  sure  I'll  send  as  much  as  ten.  But  anyhow 
five." 

"  She'll  be  sure  to  show  the  check  around  to  prove  to 
those  neighbours  how  good  you  are  to  her." 

"And  there  will  be  some  among  them,"  said  Daniel 
indignantly,  "that  will  be  ready  enough  to  call  it  stingy!" 

"Oh,  well,  some  folks  would  say  it  was  stingy  if  you  sent 
her  twenty-five  dollars  yet ! " 

"If  you  and  Sadie  want  to  put  a  little  to  what  I  send," 
Daniel  tentatively  suggested,  "we  might  make  it  ten  or 
fifteen." 

"Well,"  said  Jennie  reluctantly,  "it  ain't  fair  for  you  to 
pay  all,  either.  What  do  you  say,  Sadie?" 

"Well,"  Sadie  hesitatingly  agreed;  "for  all,  I  did  want 
to  get  a  new  fancy  for  my  white  hat.  How  much  will  you 
give,  Jennie?" 

[2501 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"  Well,  if  you  and  I  each  give  two-fifty  to  Danny's  five 
or  ten,  that  ought  to  stop  her  neighbours'  talking  out 
there." 

"All  right,"  Sadie  pensively  agreed. 

"No  use  asking  Hiram  to  contribute,"  Daniel  growled, 
"when  he  thinks  we  ought  to  charge  her  rent  for  the  place. 
He  gets  angry  whenever  he  hears  I  gave  her  a  little.  I 
told  him  once,  '  If  I  can  better  afford  than  you  can  to  give 
her  a  little,  and  I  don't  ask  you  to  help  out,  what  are  you 
kicking  about?'  'It's  the  principle  of  it,'  he  said.  'If 
you  give  her  money,  it's  admitting  you  owe  it  to  her,  or 
you  wouldn't  give  it  to  her.  Now  I  contend  that  we  don't 
owe  her  anything.'  'Well,  then,'  I  said,  'when  I  give  her 
a  little  now  and  then,  I'll  put  it  down  on  my  accounts 
under  Christian  Charities.  Will  that  satisfy  you?'  But 
no,  even  that  didn't  satisfy  him.  He's  all  for  putting  her 
to  a  home.  And  it  looks  now  as  if  that's  what  we'll  have 
to  do  pretty  soon,"  Daniel  concluded,  rising  to  go  to  his 
office. 

Margaret  looked  on  in  silence  as  Jennie  and  Sadie  each 
counted  out  carefully  from  their  purses  two  dollars  and 
a  half  and  passed  it  over  to  their  brother. 

"I'll  send  a  check,  then,  to  mother  for  fifteen  dollars," 
he  said  as  he  put  the  money  into  his  own  purse.  "I'll 
make  it  fifteen,"  he  nodded.  "I'm  willing  to  make  it 
fifteen.  That  will  certainly  settle  the  gossips  out  there 
and  keep  her  going  for  a  while  comfortably." 

He  came  across  the  room  to  Margaret's  chair  by  the 
window. 

"Good-bye,  my  dear,"  he  said,  bending  to  kiss  her;  and 

[2511 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

it  took  all  her  self-control  not  to  shrink  in  utter  repugnance 
from  his  caress. 

"Oh!"  she  inwardly  moaned  as  she  turned  to  gaze  out 
of  the  window  when  he  had  gone,  "what  crime  have  I 
committed  in  marrying  a  man  I " 

But  even  her  innermost  secret  thought  recoiled  from 
the  admision  that  she  despised  her  husband,  the  father  of 
her  child. 

She  went  upstairs  to  her  room  to  spend  the  time,  while 
she  waited  for  the  hour  of  Catherine's  arrival,  in  putting 
some  last  touches  to  the  baby  outfit  she  had  made  and  in 
writing  a  note  to  Daniel's  step-mother  expressing  her 
sympathy  with  her  recent  illness  and  reiterating  her 
promise  to  come  to  see  her  as  soon  as  possible  after  her 
confinement. 

"I'll  mail  it  myself,"  she  decided  as  she  sealed  and 
stamped  her  letter,  "or  give  it  to  Catherine  to  mail." 

At  four  o'clock,  feeling  a  little  nervous,  but  quite  deter- 
mined, she  went  downstairs  to  await  the  signal  ring  at  the 
door.  As  it  was  ten  days  since  Catherine  had  been  to  the 
house,  Margaret  hoped  that  Emmy,  the  maid,  was  off  her 
guard,  unless  the  episode  of  this  morning  had  caused 
Jennie  and  Sadie  to  renew  their  watchfulness. 

"  It's  so  stupid  of  them,  to  say  the  least,  to  imagine  I'd 
submit  to  such  interference  in  my  own  personal  affairs!" 
she  reflected. 

She  knew  their  suspicions  would  be  aroused  if  they  found 
her  in  the  parlour,  for  of  late  she  spent  most  of  her  time  in 
her  own  room.  But  she  felt  quite  ready  to  deal  with  them 
as  effectively  as  she  had  done  that  morning. 

[252] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

She  had  not  been  downstairs  long  when  a  ring  at  the 
door-bell  brought  her  to  her  feet,  only  to  sink  down  again 
trembling,  for  it  was  not  the  four  by  twos  agreed  upon 
between  her  and  Catherine;  and  a  moment  later  Mrs. 
Ocksreider  was  shown  into  the  parlour.  Jennie  and  Sadie 
came  directly  into  the  room  to  receive  with  much  satis- 
faction this  distinguished  and  now  frequent  visitor  who, 
until  Daniel's  marriage,  had  confined  her  calls  on  them  to 
once  a  year;  and  they  looked  surprised  to  see  Margaret 
already  there. 

"Were  you  expecting  Mrs.  Congressman  Ocksreider 
that  you're  down  already?"  Jennie  suspiciously  inquired, 
when  the  sisters  had  greeted  Mrs.  Ocksreider  obsequiously. 

"No,  but  I'm  expecting  Miss  Hamilton,"  Margaret 
quietly  announced.  "I  have  an  appointment  with  her  at 
four-thirty.  When  she  comes,  I  shall  have  to  ask  you  all 
to  excuse  me." 

Jennie  and  Sadie  looked  the  consternation  they  felt  at 
Margaret's  audacity,  not  to  say  disrespect,  in  asking  such 
a  person  as  Mrs.  Ocksreider  to  excuse  her  because  of  an 
appointment  with  that  Hamilton  girl! 

"It's  to  be  hoped,"  Jennie  rapidly  thought,  "that  Mrs. 
Ocksreider  will  think  it's  a  business  appointment  she's 
got  with  our  Danny's  clerk,"  while  Sadie  ostentatiously 
consulted  her  new  wrist-watch  to  see  how  soon  they  might 
expect  the  objectionable  Miss  Hamilton. 

"You  and  your  husband's  stenographer  seem  to  be  great 
friends,"  said  Mrs.  Ocksreider  with  what  seemed  to  Mar- 
garet a  rather  malicious  enjoyment  of  her  sisters-in-law's 
evident  discomfiture. 

[253] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"We  are,"  said  Margaret. 

"I've  always  heard  those  Hamiltons  very  well  spoken 
of,  as  very  nice,  worthy  people,"  Mrs.  Ocksreider  said  in  a 
tone  of  kindly  condescension.  "  Where  do  they  live,  Mrs. 
Leitzel?" 

That  Mrs.  Ocksreider  shouldn't  even  know  where  they 
lived,  put  them  of  course  outside  the  pale.  Jennie  and 
Sadie  suffered  acutely  at  Margaret's  reply. 

"They  live  in  a  small  rented  house  on  Green  Street," 
she  said,  and  added :  "  One  of  the  few  really  distinguished 
homes  in  our  town." 

"'Distinguished?'"  repeated  Mrs.  Ocksreider,  puzzled. 

"I  mean,  rather,  it  is  a  home  that  has  distinction,  by 
reason  of  its  inmates  and  its  furnishings." 

"Its  furnishings?"  questioned  Mrs.  Ocksreider,  still 
puzzled. 

"  Its  pictures  and  books  and  general  good  taste.  One  of 
the  few  households  that  have  pictures  and  books." 

"Oh,  but  we  all  have  pictures  and  books,  Mrs.  Leitzel!" 

"Real  pictures,  I  mean,  and  real  books,  too." 

"  But  I'm  sure  most  families  of  our  class  have  the  classics 
in  their  homes,"  Mrs.  Ocksreider  protested. 

"'The  classics'  do  help  to  furnish  a  room  nicely,  don't 
they?"  Margaret  granted.  "But  the  Hamiltons  have 
books  which  they  read.  French  and  German  as  well  as 
English." 

"Well,  of  course,  a  public  school  teacher's  home  would 
be  likely  to  have  all  kinds  of  books,"  Mrs.  Ocksreider  con- 
ceded, "that  society  people  wouldn't  buy." 

"Of  course,"  Margaret  agreed. 
[254] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"But  I  don't  see  why  that  should  make  their  little  home 
on  Green  Street  what  you  called  it — 'distinguished.'" 

"But  I  said  the  furnishings  and  the  inmates  gave  it 
distinction.  You  see,  I  know  because  I  am  very  intimate 
with  them." 

"I  have  heard  that  you  were.  It  is  so  nice  for  your 
husband's  little  stenographer  that  you  should  take  her  up 
like  that.  It's  so  unusual,  too.  She's  very  fortunate,  I'm 
sure." 

"  It's  rather  she  that  has  taken  me  up.  I'm  quite  proud 
that  she  thinks  me  worth  the  time  she  gives  me.  You  see 
she's  more  than  Mr.  Leitzel's  stenographer:  she's  an  able 
law  clerk.  Mr.  Leitzel  says  she's  indispensable  to  him." 

"Then  he  and  his  sisters  share  your  enthusiasm  over 
the  Hamiltons?"  Mrs.  Ocksreider  inquired  in  a  tone  of 
polite  skepticism. 

"I  am  the  only  one  of  us  all  who  is  intimate  with  them," 
Margaret  complacently  stated. 

"I  didn't  see  them  at  your  reception  last  fall,  did  I?" 

"They  didn't  come,"  Margaret  readily  answered. 
"You  know  they  don't  go  into  society  at  all." 

Jennie  and  Sadie  felt  cold  as  they  heard  these  shameless 
admissions,  their  Danny's  wife  bragging  of  her  intimacy 
with  people  whom  she  openly  advertised  as  living  in  a 
rented  house  on  a  side  street  and  as  not  going  into  society! 
Not  to  go  into  society  was,  in  the  Leitzels'  eyes,  to  be  so 
abjectly  unimportant  as  to  make  you  want  to  get  off  the 
earth .  And  Margaret  flaunted  it ! 

"Ain't  she  the  contrary  piece  though!"  Jennie  inwardly 
raged. 

[255] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"Ah!"  Margaret  almost  jumped  from  her  chair  as  the 
door-bell  at  this  moment  rang  "four  by  twos." 

"That's  Miss  Hamilton  now,"  she  announced,  rising 
and  walking  as  quickly  as  she  could  (which  was  not  very 
quick)  across  the  room.  "Will  you  please  excuse  me,  Mrs. 
Ocksreider?  I  am  sorry,  but  it  is  an  appointment " 

But  as  she  reached  the  door  which  opened  into  the  hall, 
she  saw  the  front  door  closed  abruptly  by  Emmy,  the 
maid. 

Instantly  stepping  back  into  the  parlour,  Margaret 
hurried  to  the  window,  rapped  upon  it,  then  raised  it  and 
leaned  out  to  speak  to  Miss  Hamilton  on  the  pavement. 
"Emmy  made  a  mistake;  I  am  at  home,  Catherine.  Come 
back,  and  I'll  open  the  door." 

She  closed  the  window  and  again  made  her  way  heavily 
across  the  room,  smiling  in  a  friendly  way  upon  Mrs. 
Ocksreider  as  she  passed  her.  "A  mistake  of  the  maid's. 
I'm  seeing  so  few  people  just  now,"  she  dropped  an  ex- 
planation on  her  way. 

Mrs.  Ocksreider's  subsequent  description  of  the  scene, 
in  which  the  Leitzel  sisters'  horror  at  Mrs.  Leitzel's  in- 
nocent candour  about  "those  Hamiltons,"  and  the  young 
woman's  clever  outwitting  of  her  two  would-be  "keepers," 
afforded  most  delectable  entertainment  to  New  Munich 
society  for  two  months  to  come. 


[256] 


XXII 

IT  WAS  late  in  October  that  the  twins  were  born,  a  boy 
and  a  girl,  and  Margaret  did  not  rise  from  her  bed  for 
a  month.  It  was  six  weeks  before  she  got  downstairs. 

Long  before  the  trained  nurse  left  her,  she  realized  what, 
before  her  confinement,  she  had  dimly  foreseen,  the  strug- 
gle to  the  death  which  she  would  certainly  have  with 
Jennie's  strong  prejudices  in  favour  of  old-fashioned 
country  methods  of  taking  care  of  a  baby.  It  was  only 
the  doctor's  powers  of  persuasion  that  induced  the  nurse, 
harassed  beyond  endurance  by  Jennie's  interference  with 
her  methods,  to  remain  with  her  patient  until  she  was  no 
longer  needed. 

"You  poor  thing,  you  certainly  are  up  against  it!" 
was  her  parting  bit  of  sympathy  to  Margaret.  "She'll 
kill  off  those  precious  twinlets  for  you,  or  she'll  kill  you. 
One  of  you  has  got  to  die!  The  woman's  a  holy  terror, 
my  dear!  And  the  other  one,  that  wears  Mother  Hub- 
bards  and  Kate  Greenaways  and  Peter  Thompsons  and 
Heaven  knows  what,  she's  nearly  as  bad  as  her  sister  about 
these  babies.  7  don't  know  what  you're  going  to  do! 
You  may  be  able  to  protect  them  when  you're  with  them; 
but  you've  got  to  get  out  sometimes  for  an  airing  without 
dragging  the  baby-coach  along,  and  those  two" — indicat- 
ing, with  a  twirl  of  her  thumb,  the  twins'  redoubtable 

[257] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

aunts — "will  certainly  kill  off  your  babies  for  you  while 
you're  out. " 

"  If  you're  sure  of  that  I'll  never  go  out." 

"And  you  can't  look  for  your  husband  to  help  you  any," 
continued  the  nurse.  "Crazy  as  he  is  over  the  twinnies, 
he'll  help  the  old  ladies  kill  them  off,  because  he  thinks 
their  ancient  ideas  are  right.  The  old  ladies,  for  that 
matter,  are  nearly  as  crazy  over  the  babies  as  he  is.  You'd 
think  nobody  but  Mr.  Danny  Leitzel  had  ever  had  twins 
before.  I  never  saw  such  a  looney  lot  of  people.  But 
it's  their  love  for  those  children  that's  going  to  make  them 
kill  them,  for  it  does  beat  all  the  way  you  can't  knock  a 
new  idea  into  any  of  them. " 

In  the  very  hour  of  the  nurse's  departure,  Jennie,  sup- 
ported by  Sadie  as  always,  swooped  down  upon  Margaret 
to  insist,  with  the  triple  force  of  conviction,  of  tyranny,  and 
of  her  love  for  Danny's  precious  babies,  that  they  be 
brought  up  as  she  knew  how  babies  should  be,  and  not  by 
the  murderous  modern  methods  of  exposing  them  to  the 
night  air,  of  bathing  them  all  over  every  day  even  in  winter, 
of  feeding  them,  even  up  to  the  age  of  one  year,  on  nothing 
but  milk,  of  taking  them  outdoors  every  day  in  winter  as 
well  as  in  summer. 

"Many's  the  little  green  mound  in  the  cemetery  that 
hadn't  ought  to  be  there!"  Sadie  sentimentally  warned 
Margaret.  "  So  you  let  us  teach  you  how  to  take  care  of 
Danny's  babies ! " 

Well,  the  conflict  or  convictions  between  the  mother,  on 
the  one  side,  and  the  aunts  and  the  father  on  the  other, 
was  not  settled  in  a  day,  nor  yet  in  a  week.  It  was, 

[258] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

indeed,  prolonged  to  the  inevitable  end.  But  while  the 
strife  and  tumult  of  battle  raged,  the  mother's  will  was 
carried  out,  at  the  cost  to  her  of  a  nervous  energy  she 
was  in  no  wise  strong  enough  to  expend. 

The  fact  that  the  twins  thrived  wonderfully  under 
Margaret's  regime  did  not  in  the  least  modify  the  Leitzels' 
prejudice  against  it.  Daniel  could  not  help  believing 
profoundly  in  the  wisdom  of  his  sisters,  since  they  had 
made  such  a  success  of  him.  And  never  once  in  his  We 
had  he  failed  to  "come  out  on  top"  when  following  their 
advice.  He  admired  and  respected  them;  and  he  felt  as 
much  affection  for  them  as  he  was  capable  of  feeling  for 
any  one.  So  that,  with  his  loyalty  to  them  challenged  by 
that  force  which  to  most  men  is  the  strongest  in  life — the 
love  of  a  woman — the  atmosphere  of  his  home  was,  just  at 
present,  rather  uncomfortably  surcharged. 

But  in  spite  of  this  and  of  his  actual  bewilderment  at  the 
continued  obstinacy  of  a  wife  who,  though  tenderly  be- 
loved, indulged,  and  petted,  dared  to  stand  out  against 
not  only  his  sisters  but  against  himself,  Daniel  was  so 
radiantly  proud  and  happy  at  finding  himself  the  father 
of  a  son  and  daughter  at  one  stroke  that  he  discussed 
with  every  one  he  met  the  charms,  the  characteristics, 
the  food,  and  the  habits  of  his  offspring;  told  his  colleagues 
in  business  what  food-formula  agreed  with  his  girl  baby, 
who  was  being  brought  up  on  the  bottle,  the  mother  being 
able  to  nurse  only  one  child  and  that  one  being,  of  course, 
by  his  wish,  the  boy;  delivered  to  every  one  who  would 
hear  him  his  views  on  Modern  Fallacies  in  the  Care  of 
Infants;  and  invited  the  opinions  even  of  his  employees  as 

[259] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

to  suitable  or  desirable  names  for  the  daughter,  the  son 
being  of  course  Daniel,  Junior. 

It  was  one  mild  day  in  January,  when,  after  a  siege  of 
more  than  usually  bitter  opposition  on  Jennie's  part  to 
the  twins  being  kept  on  the  piazza  all  the  morning,  Mar- 
garet found  herself,  during  the  afternoon,  in  a  blessed 
solitude  in  the  family  sitting-room,  Jennie  and  Sadie  hav- 
ing gone  out  calling.  So  tired  and  heartsick  was  she 
that  she  did  not  even  feel  any  desire  to  call  up  Catherine 
and  ask  her  to  share  her  few  hours  of  freedom  from  inter- 
ference and  fear  of  harm  to  her  babies.  The  twins  were 
again  healthily  sleeping  on  the  porch  outside  the  sitting- 
room  and  Margaret  gave  herself  up  to  the  sweet  peace  of 
this  respite,  reading,  dreaming,  resting,  when  presently 
the  door-bell  rang,  and  a  moment  later  Emmy  ushered  into 
the  sitting-room  a  feeble  old  woman  dressed  in  the  plain 
religious  habit  of  the  Mennonites. 

Margaret  instantly  knew  who  the  visitor  was,  and  as  she 
went  to  her,  took  her  two  hands  in  both  her  own,  kissed 
her  and  looked  down  into  the  motherly  old  face  with  its 
expression  of  childlike  innocence  and  sweetness,  she  was 
thankful  that  the  rest  of  the  family  was  not  at  home  and 
that  she  could  for  a  little  while  bask  in  the  warmth  of 
this  kindly  human  countenance. 

When  she  had  made  her  visitor  comfortable  in  Danny's 
big  easy-chair  before  the  fire  and  had  had  Emmy  bring  in 
some  hot  tea  and  toast,  the  old  woman's  beaming  gratitude 
betrayed  how  unlooked-for  were  such  attentions  in  this 
home  of  her  step-children. 

"I'll  soon  get  my  breath,"  she  feebly  said  as  she  sipped 
[260] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

her  tea.  "  I  do  get  out  of  puff  so  quick,  still,  since  my  lungs 
took  so  bad  this  fall." 

"  It  was  really  too  much  of  a  trip  for  you  to  take,  and  all 
alone,"  said  Margaret  solicitously.  "I  was  just  this  very 
day  deciding  that  I  would  go  out  to  see  you  some  time  this 
week,  if  I  could  manage  it.  It's  very  hard  for  me  to  get 
away  or  I  should  have  been  to  see  you  before  this." 

"Well,  my  dear,  what  brang  me  in  to-day  was  that  I 
just  had  to  see  Danny  and  the  girls  on  a  little  business,  and 
so  my  neighbour  fetched  me  in  in  his  automobile.  I 
couldn't  spare  the  money  to  come  by  train.  But,"  she 
said  tremulously,  "he  made  his  automobile  go  so  unman- 
nerly fast,  I  didn't  have  no  pleasure.  He  said  he  ain't 
commonly  got  the  fashion  of  going  so  fast,  but,  you  see, 
he  raced  another  automobile.  He  took  me  along  for  kind- 
ness, but  indeed  I'm  sorry  to  say  I  didn't  enjoy  myself." 

"  It  was  a  strain  on  you,  I  can  see,"  said  Margaret  sym- 
pathetically. 

"But  the  tea's  making  me  feel  all  right  again,"  said  Mrs. 
Leitzel  reassuringly.  "  It's  wonderful  kind  of  you  to  give 
it  to  me;  but  I  didn't  want  to  make  no  bother.  I  seen 
Danny  down  at  his  office,  and  when  he  told  me  the  girls 
wasn't  home  this  after,  I  came  up  here  on  the  chanct  of 
seein'  you  alone,  and  them  dear  little  twinses!  Indeed  I 
felt  I  got  to  see  them  two  twin  babies  before  I  died  a'ready. 
You  see  I  knowed  by  your  nice  letters  to  me  that  you'd 
treat  me  kind,  and  indeed  I  had  afraid  to  try  to  go  back 
home  alone  on  the  train;  I  conceited  that  mebby  you'd 
take  me  to  the  depot,"  she  said  with  timid  wistfulness, 
"and  put  me  on  the  right  train,  and  then  I  wouldn't  have 

[261] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

so  afraid.  Danny  thinks  I  went  straight  off  home  by 
myself.  But  indeed  I  didn't  darst  to." 

"Of  course  I'll  take  care  of  you.  But  you  must  not 
think  of  leaving  before  to-morrow  when  you've  had  a 
chance  to  get  thoroughly  rested." 

"Oh,  but,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Leitzel  nervously, 
"  Danny  give  me  the  money  to  pay  my  way  back  home  and 
he  thinks  I  went.  And  you  see,  it  would  put  the  girls 
out  to  have  to  make  up  the  spare  bed  just  for  me." 

"But  who  could  be  more  important  than  you — you  who 
took  care  of  them  all  when  they  were  children?  Indeed 
I  shan't  let  you  go  a  step  to-day." 

"Did  they  tell  you  I  took  care  of  them,  my  dear?  "  asked 
Mrs.  Leitzel,  puzzled.  "Because  they  never  talked  to 
me  that  way.  And  Danny  tried  to  show  me  this  after, 
when  I  put  it  to  him  that  now  I  couldn't  hold  out  no  longer 
to  support  myself  gardening  on  the  old  place — he  said  I 
hadn't  no  claim  on  him.  I  don't  know,"  she  added  sadly, 
"what  I'll  do.  I'm  too  old  and  feeble  to  work  any  more, 
my  dear.  God  knows  I  would  if  I  could.  I'd  work  for  all 
of  them  as  well  as  for  myself,  the  way  I  used  to,  if  I  had 
strength  to.  But  I  come  in  to-day  to  tell  Danny  that  at 
last  I'm  done  out.  Yes,  the  doctor  says  I  got  tendencies 
and  things  and  that  I  got  to  be  awful  careful." 

"'Tendencies?'"  asked  Margaret. 

"He  says  I  got  somepin  stickin'  in  me." 

"Something  sticking  in  you!  Do  you  mean  that  you 
swallowed  a  bone  or  something?  " 

"No,  my  dear,  I  didn't  swallow  nothin'.  I  got  a  tend- 
ency stickin'  in  me  that  might  give  pneumonia.  So  I 

[2621 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

come  to  ask  Danny  to-day  if — if  he  couldn't  mebby  spare 
me  something,"  she  faltered,  "to  live  on  for  the  little  time 
I  got  left,  so  that" — a  childlike  fear  in  her  aged  eyes — 
"I  don't  have  to  go  to  the  poorhouse!" 

"When  you  told  Danny  all  this,"  asked  Margaret,  laying 
her  hand  on  Mrs.  Leitzel's,  "he  said  you  had  no  claim  on 
him?" 

The  old  woman's  lips  quivered  and  she  pressed  them 
together  for  an  instant  before  she  answered. 

"He  told  me  he'd  talk  it  all  over  oncet  with  Hiram  and 
the  girls.  But,"  she  shook  her  head,  "I'm  afraid  Hiram's 
less  merciful  than  any  of  my  children  and  he'll  urge  'em 
to  put  me  to  such  a  home  for  paupers;  and,  oh,  Margaret 
— dare  I  call  you  Margaret?" 

"What  else  would  you  call  your  son's  wife,  dearie?" 

"I  have  so  glad  Danny  has  such  a  sweet  wife!  I 
wouldn't  of  believed  he'd  marry  a  lady  that  would  be  so 
nice  and  common  to  me.  It  wonders  me !  I  can't  hardly 
believe  it!" 

"But  you  are  good  to  me,  making  me  that  lovely  quilt 
and  the  baby  socks.  I  use  the  quilt  all  the  time  and  one  of 
the  twins  is  wearing  the  socks  now.  How  could  even 
Hiram  be  hard  to  you  ?  " 

"But  Hiram  and  the  others  is  wery  different  to  what  you 
are."  Mrs.  Leitzel  shook  her  head.  "Danny  says  if  he 
did  pay  me  a  little  to  live  on,  Hiram  would  have  awful  cross 
at  him.  You  see,  my  dear,  the  reason  I  ain't  got  anything 
saved,  as  they  think  I  had  ought  to  have,  is  that  I  never 
could  make  enough  off  of  the  wegetables  I  raised  in  the 
backyard  to  keep  myself  and  pay  for  all  the  repairs  on  the 

[263] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

old  place,  for  all  I  done  a  good  bit;  enough  anyhow  to  keep 
the  old  place  from  fallin'  in  on  me.  I  don't  know  how  I'd 
of  lived  all  these  years  if  it  hadn't  of  been  for  the  kindness 
of  my  neighbours.  And  now  Danny  says  if  I  can't  keep 

myself  at  all  no  more Again  she  pressed  her  lips 

together  for  an  instant.  "He  don't  see  nothing  for  it 
but  that  I  go  to  a  old  woman's  home.  He  calls  it  a  old 
woman's  home,  but  he  means  the  poorhouse." 

"Mother,"  said  Margaret,  clasping  the  hand  she  held, 
"I  wish  you  would  tell  me  the  whole  story  of  your  life 
with  Daniel  and  Hiram  and  'the  girls.'  Begin,  please, 
away  back  at  'Once  upon  a  time.'" 

Mrs.  Leitzel  smiled  as  she  looked  gently  and  gratefully 
upon  Daniel's  young  wife  who  wasn't  too  proud  to  call 
her  "Mother." 

"Well,  my  dear,  I  married  John  Leitzel  when  Danny 
was  only  six  months  old,  because  them  children  needed  a 
mother.  John  drank  hard  and  it  was  too  much  for  them 
young  folks  to  earn  the  living  and  keep  house  and  take 
care  of  a  baby.  I  married  John  because  I  pitied  'em  all 
and  so's  I  could  take  hold  and  help.  Jennie  was  fifteen, 
Sadie  ten,  and  Hiram  five,  and  then  the  baby,  Danny.  I 
sent  the  three  older  ones  to  school  and  I  took  in  washings 
and  kep'  care  of  the  baby  and  did  the  housekeeping  and 
the  sewing.  I  kep'  Jennie  in  school  till  she  could  pass  the 
County  Superintendent's  examination  a'ready  and  get 
such  a  certificate  you  mind  of,  and  get  elected  to  teach'the 
district  school.  And  with  all  my  hard  work,  I  kep'  her 
dressed  as  well  as  I  otherwise  could.  For  I  was  always 
handy  with  the  needle  and  Jennie  and  Sadie  was  always 

[£64] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

so  fond  for  the  clo'es.  Well,  when  at  last  Jennie  come 
home  with  her  certificate  to  teach,  my  but  we  was  all 
proud !  Indeed,  I  wasn't  more  proud  when  Hiram  got  his 
paper  that  he  was  now  a  real  preacher — sich  a  seminary 
preacher,  mind  you! — though  that  was  a  long  time  after- 
ward. Well,  I  thought  it  would  go  easier  for  me,  mebby, 
when  Jennie  got  her  school.  But  you  see,  she  had  so 
ambitious  to  dress  nice  and  do  for  Danny  (he  was  such  a 
smart  little  fellah)  that  I  had  still  to  take  in  washings  and 
go  out  by  the  day  to  work.  Hiram  he  worked  the  little 
farm  we  had  and  I  helped  him,  too,  in  the  busy  seasons  to 
save  the  cost  of  a  hired  man,  for  our  place  had  such  a 
heavy  mortgage  that  the  interest  took  near  all  we  could 
scrape  together.  Yes,  for  nine  years  and  a  half  we  strug- 
gled along  like  that,  and  then  at  last  John  died.  And 
mind  you,  the  wery  next  month  after  he  died,  we  all  of  a 
suddint  found  coal  on  our  land!  Yes,  who'd  ever  of 
looked  for  such  an  unexpected  ewent  as  that!  Ain't?" 

"To  whom  did  the  land  belong?"  asked  Margaret. 

"It  had  belonged  to  my  husband's  first  wife,  but  she 
had  willed  it  over  to  him  before  she  died.  So  it  was  hisn." 

"Oh,  but,  my  dear,  then  you  were  entitled  to  one  third 
of  it,  if  you  didn't  sign  away  your  rights." 

"Indeed,  no,  I  didn't  sign  nothing.  Leave  me  tell  you 
something,  my  dear:  John  on  his  deathbed  he  thanked 
me  for  all  I  done  and  his  dying  orders  to  me  was,  'Don't 
you  never  leave  Jennie  and  the  rest  get  you  to  sign  away 
your, rights  in  the  farm  that  you  worked  so  hard  to  keep 
in  the  family.  If  it  wasn't  for  you,'  he  said,  'we  would  of 
been  sold  out  of  here  long  ago,  and  the  children  all  bound 

[265] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

out  and  me  in  the  poorhouse !  And  if  I  had  the  money  for 
a  lawyer,  I'd  sign  the  whole  farm  over  to  you  before  I  die.' 
'No,  John,'  I  said,  'that  wouldn't  be  right,  neither,  to  give 
it  to  me  over  your  children's  heads.'  'Well,  anyway,'  he 
says,  'it's  too  late  now,  so  you  just  pass  me  your  solemn 
promise  on  my  deathbed  that  you'll  never  leave  'em  per- 
suade you  to  sign  nothing  without  you  first  leave  one  of 
your  Mennonite  brethren  look  it  over  and  say  you  ain't 
signin'  away  your  rights.'  So  I  passed  my  promise  and 
I've  kep'  it,  though  it  has  certainly  went  hard  for  me  to 
keep  it.  Danny  worried  me  often  a'ready  these  thirty 
years  back,  to  sign  a  paper,  and  it  used  to  make  him 
wonderful  put  out  when  I  had  to  tell  him,  still,  that  I'd 
sign  if  he'd  leave  one  of  our  Mennonite  brethren  read  it 
first  and  say  if  I  was  breakin'  my  word  to  John  or  no. 
Danny  always  said  he  didn't  want  our  affairs  made  so 
public  and  the  Mennonite  brother  would  have  too  much 
to  say.  So  then  I  had  to  say  I  couldn't  sign  it;  I  couldn't 
break  my  word  to  John  on  his  deathbed.  Many's  the 
time  I  was  sorry  I  passed  that  promise  to  John — they  all 
have  so  cross  at  me  because  I  won't  sign  nothin'.  You 
see,  they  always  was  generous  to  me,  giving  me  the  house 
and  backyard  to  live  in  without  rent.  But  to  be  sure  I 
couldn't  break  my  word  to  my  dying  man ! " 

Margaret  saw  that  there  had  been  no  self-interest  in 
her  refusal  to  sign  away  her  rights,  but  that  the  binding 
quality  of  a  deathbed  promise  was  to  her  a  fetish,  a  super- 
stition. And  it  was  this,  no  doubt,  that  Catherine  had 
meant  in  speaking  of  her  "breast-plate  of  righteousness," 
her  conscientious  devotion  to  her  solemn  vow  had  shielded 

[266] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

her  from  the  snare  of  the  fowler;  from  "the  greed  of  the 
vulture,"  Catherine  had  said. 

"And  lately,"  Mrs.  Leitzel  continued  her  story,  "Danny 
didn't  bother  me  no  more  to  sign  nothing.  But  to-day," 
she  concluded,  suddenly  looking  very  weak  and  helpless, 
as  she  leaned  far  back  in  her  chair,  "to-day  he  ast  me 
again,  and  he  said  it  couldn't  make  no  matter  to  me  now 
when  I  was  so  near  my  end,  and  if  I'd  sign  a  paper  he'd 
not  leave  the  others  put  me  to  the  poorhouse.  But  I 
told  him  if  I  was  so  soon  to  come  before  my  Maker,  I 
darsent  go  with  a  broken  promise  on  my  soul.  If  only 
I  hadn't  never  passed  that  promise,  my  dear!  John 
meant  it  in  kindness  to  me,  but  you  see,"  she  sud- 
denly sobbed,  "it's  sendin'  me  to  the  poorhouse  to  end 
my  days!" 

"Oh,  but  my  dear!"  exclaimed  Margaret,  her  face 
flushed  with  excitement,  "why  didn't  you,  from  the  very 
first,  get  your  one  third  interest  in  those  coal  lands?  You 
were  and  are  entitled  to  it! " 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Leitzel,  "right  in  the  beginning  when 
they  first  found  the  coal,  they  got  me  to  say  I'd  be  satisfied 
to  take  the  house  and  backyard  for  my  share;  not  to  keep, 
of  course,  but  to  live  on  for  the  rest  of  my  life;  and  seeing 
the  land  had  been  their  own  mother's,  that  was  a  lot 
more'n  I  had  the  right  to  look  for.  To  be  sure,"  she 
gently  explained,  "you  couldn't  expect  your  step- 
children to  care  for  you  as  your  own  flesh  and  blood 
might." 

"You  cared  for  them  as  though  they  were  your  own  flesh 
and  blood.  Tell  me,  you  did  not  sign  an  agreement,  did 

[267] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

you,  to  accept  the  house  and  backyard  in  lieu  of  your  one 
third  interest  in  the  estate?  " 

"No,  for  that  would  of  been  breakin'  the  promise  I 
passed  to  John.  For  you  see,  Danny  never  would  leave 
one  of  the  brethren  look  over  the  paper  he  wanted  me  to 
sign,  and  say  whether  I  could  do  it  without  breakin'  my 
word.  So  I  never  signed  nothing." 

"Then  the  only  thing  you  need  to  establish  your  abso- 
lute right  in  one  third  of  the  income  of  the  coal  lands  (now 
enjoyed  by  your  step-children  and  excluding  you)  is  the 
proof  that  the  title  to  those  lands  was  vested  absolutely 
in  your  husband  at  the  time  of  his  death.  If  it  wasn't, 
you  have  no  case.  If  it  was,  you've  plenty  of  money! 
You  see,  my  brother-in-law  is  a  lawyer  and  I've  imbibed  a 
little  bit  of  legal  knowledge.  But  I  have  an  intimate 
friend,  Miss  Catherine  Hamilton,  who  knows  nearly  as 
much  law  as  Daniel  does  and  I'll  get  her  to  look  up  the 
court-house  records  for  your  husband's  title  to  that  land, 
and  then,  my  dear,  if  we  find  it Oh,  my  stars ! " 

"But,  Margaret,"  the  old  woman  protested  fearfully, 
"you'll  get  'em  all  down  on  you  if  you  go  and  do  somepin 
like  that!" 

"You  see,"  Margaret  gravely  explained,  "I  am  living 
on  this  money  which  belongs  to  you,  and  my  children  will 
be  living  on  it,  inheriting  it.  I  couldn't  bear  that,  of 
course." 

"Do  you  mean,"  faltered  Mrs.  Leitzel,  "you  think  they 
cheated  me?  There's  others  tried  to  hint  that  to  me  and 
I  wouldn't  never  listen  to  it.  Why,  Hiram's  a  Christian 
minister  and  they're  all  church  members  and  professin' 

[268] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

Christians!     They  wouldn't  steal,  my  dear — and  from  an 
old  woman  like  me! " 

"It's  been  done,  however,  by  church  members  and 
professing  Christians.  We'll  investigate  it,  my  dear," 
Margaret  firmly  repeated. 

"  But  I  wouldn't  want  to  be  the  cause  of  you  and  Danny's 
fallin'  out,  little  girl!  That  I  certainly  wouldn't.  And, 
dear  me ! — if  you  got  Jennie  down  on  you  yet ! " 

"She  couldn't  be  much  more  down  on  me  than  she  is. 
And  during  all  these  years,  you  know,  you've  stood  up  to 
them  for  the  sake  of  a  sacred  promise.  I  hope  I  haven't 
less  courage." 

"  Don't  you  think  Danny's  too  smart  a  lawyer,  my  dear, 
for  you  to  get  'round  him?"  Mrs.  Leitzel  anxiously  tried 
to  avert  the  disaster  which  Margaret's  suggestion  surely 
presaged. 

"My  brother-in-law  is  a  smart  lawyer,  too.  I'll  write 
to  him  this  very  night,  put  the  case  to  him  (omitting  names) 
and  ask  his  advice.  Oh,"  she  suddenly  lowered  her  voice, 
"here  come  'the  girls.'  Do  not  breathe  a  word  of  what 
I've  said  to  you!" 

"Oh,  no,  indeed  I  won't.  I  know  how  cross  they'd  have 
at  me!  My  dear,"  she  added,  clinging  to  Margaret's 
hand,  "stay  by  me,  will  you?  Please!  Jennie  and  Sadie 
won't  like  it  so  well  that  I  come.  I  conceited  I'd  get  away 
before  they  got  back,  and  they're  likely  to  scold  me  some, 
my  dear,  and " 

Margaret  stooped  over  her  impulsively  and  kissed  her 
forehead.  "Come  out  to  the  porch  with  me  and  see  the 
babies." 

[269] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

When  a  moment  later  Jennie  and  Sadie  came  into  the 
room  they  saw,  through  the  long  French  window  opening 
on  to  the  porch,  their  step-mother  bending  over  the  sleep- 
ing infants  in  the  big  double  coach,  and  Margaret  standing 
at  her  side,  her  arm  about  her  waist. 


270] 


XXIII 

WHY ! "  exclaimed  Jennie  as  she  grudgingly  shook 
hands  with  her  step-mother  when  Margaret  re- 
turned with  her  to  the  sitting-room.     "You 
here  I     We  saw  Danny  downtown  just  now  and  he  said  he 
gave  you  money  to  get  home." 

"Yes,"  added  Sadie,  also  shaking  hands  reluctantly, 
"we  didn't  look  to  see  you  here.  Anyhow  Danny  thought 
you  went  to  the  depot  from  his  office." 

"But,"  smiled  Margaret,  "she  gave  me  the  pleasant 
surprise  of  a  call.  I  am  so  glad,  because  I  wanted  so  much 
to  know  her,  my  husband's  mother  and  the  babies'  grand- 
mother !  How  pretty  your  flowers  look,  Sadie ! "  she  added 
diplomatically  and  quite  insincerely,  for  she  groaned 
inwardly  at  the  bunch  of  little  artificial  roses  Sadie  girl- 
ishly wore  on  the  lapel  of  her  coat. 

"What  is  this  to  do?"  Jennie  suddenly  demanded  as 
her  eyes  fell  upon  the  tea-table. 

"We've  been  having  tea  and  toast." 

"Well!"  breathed  Sadie. 

"Upon  my  word!"  exclaimed  Jennie.  "You  stopped 
Emmy  in  her  Sa'urday's  work  to  make  tea  and  toast  hi  the 
middle  of  the  afternoon  yet!" 

"It  took  her  just  fifteen  minutes." 
[271] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"She  ain't  ever  to  be  hindered  in  her  Sa'urday's  work! 
She  has  a  cake  to  bake  for  Sunday  then ! " 

"But  you  know,"  said  Margaret  patiently,  "you  stopped 
her  on  wash  day  to  make  tea  for  Mrs.  Ocksreider." 

"  Well,  but  Mom  ain't  used  to  tea  in  the  afternoon  and 
Mrs.  Ocksreider  is.  Anyhow,  who's  keeping  house  here, 
Margaret?" 

"But  surely  I  may  have  a  cup  of  tea  with  your  mother  if 
I  wish  to,  in  this  house! " 

"But  it  up-mixes  my  accounts  when  you  do  somepin 
like  this.  Danny  pays  half  of  all  the  expenses  here  and 
Sadie  and  I  pay  half." 

"Oh,  I  see,"  Margaret  breathed  rather  than  spoke. 
"But  after  all,  Jennie,  it's  quite  a  simple  matter — 
charge  the  tea,  sugar,  milk,  bread,  and  butter  to  Daniel's 
side  of  your  account  and  I'll  take  the  responsibility  of 
it." 

Jennie  turned  abruptly  to  her  step-mother.  "It's 
getting  late  on  you,  Mom,  to  get  out  home.  You  don't 
want  to  get  there  after  dark,  with  a  half  a  mile  to  walk  from 
the  station  yet.  Before  I  take  off  my  coat  and  hat,  I 
better  see  you  on  the  street  car  that'll  take  you  to  the 
depot  for  the  five  o'clock  train." 

"Yes,  Jennie,"  the  old  woman  submissively  answered, 
"I  was  just  a-goin'  to  start  to  go  when  you  come." 

She  rose  with  an  effort  from  the  comfortable  chair 
before  the  fire  in  which  Margaret  had  again  placed  her. 
But  Margaret  at  once  pressed  her  back  into  her  seat. 

"You  will  be  glad  to  know,  Jennie,  that  I  have  per- 
suaded mother  to  spend  the  night  with  us,"  she  said,  "as 

[272] 


"  You  will  be  glad  to  know,  Jennie,  that  1  have  persuaded 
mother  to  spend  the  night  with  us,"  Margaret  said 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

she  is  too  tired  from  her  journey  to  go  back  before  to- 
morrow." 

"  She  never  stops  the  night  with  us,  Margaret,"  Jennie 
coldly  returned.  "Come  on,  Mom,  I'll  put  you  on  the 
street  car." 

"But  isn't  it  nice,"  cried  Margaret,  holding  her  arm 
around  Mrs.  Leitzel  to  keep  Jennie  off,  "that  I've  suc- 
ceeded in  coaxing  her  to  stay  to-night?  Such  a  pleasant 
surprise  for  Daniel  when  he  comes  home,  to  find  you  here, 
dear!  What  is  home  without  a  grandmother?  Good 
discipline  for  Daniel,  too,  to  have  to  give  up  this  armchair 
for  one  evening!  Even  I  have  to  get  out  of  it  when  he 
wants  it.  But  naturally  he  can't  put  his  mother  out  of  the 
only  really  comfortable  chair  in  the  house." 

"But  Danny  paid  for  that  chair,"  explained  Sadie. 
"It  would  be  funny — ain't? — if  he  couldn't  sit  in  his  own 
chair  when  he  wants ! " 

"The  spare-room  bed  ain't  made  up,"  Jennie  frowned  at 
Margaret.  "And  nobody  has  time  to  make  it  up  at  four 
o'clock  on  Saturday  afternoon!  Anyhow,  strangers  stop- 
ping over  night  is  apt  to  give  Sadie  the  headache.  And 
Mom  never  wants  to  be  away  from  her  own  bed.  She 
won't  can  home  herself  in  a  strange  bed,  can  you,  Mom?  " 

But  Margaret  spoke  before  Mrs.  Leitzel  could  reply. 
"I'll  make  up  the  guest  bed.  It  won't  take  me  ten  min- 
utes. Mother"— she  patted  Mrs.  Leitzel's  shoulder—"  I'll 
be  right  downstairs  again  in  ten  minutes." 

But  Mrs.  Leitzel  clung  to  her  hand.  "Don't  let  me 
alone  with— stay  by  me,  Margaret—  '  she  pitifully 
pleaded. 

[273] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"You  shall  come  upstairs  with  me,  then,  to  my  room," 
Margaret  said,  helping  her,  now,  to  rise  to  her  feet. 

"No,  Margaret,  Mom's  to  go  back  on  the  five  o'clock 
train,"  affirmed  Jennie  peremptorily.  "Our  Danny  give 
her  the  money  to  go  back.  It  ain't  for  you  to  be  using  our 
clean  linens  to  make  up  the  spare  bed.  Come  on,  Mom." 

Jennie  laid  an  ungentle  grasp  upon  her  step-mother's 
arm,  but  Margaret,  her  face  suddenly  ablaze  with  indigna- 
tion, confronted  her. 

"Jennie!  This  is  my  husband's  home,  and  his  feeble 
mother  shall  be  his  guest  and  mine  until  to-morrow  morn- 
ing." 

"  She  ain't  his  mother,  she  ain't  even  a  blood  relation. 
And  what  right  have  you,  I'd  like  to  know,  to  meddle  in 
our  family  affairs?"  Jennie  fiercely  demanded.  "It's 
just  your  contrariness  that  makes  you  want  to  do  every- 
thing that  you  see  will  spite  us;  for  what  other  reason  would 
a  person  like  you  have  for  taking  up  with  an  uneducated 
old  woman  like  Mom?  You  wouldn't  look  at  a  person 
like  her  if  it  was  not  to  spite  us ! " 

"What  right  have  I?  The  right  of  the  humane  to 
protect  the  helpless  from  brutality,  under  any  and  all 
circumstances,  without  exception.  She  shall  not  leave  this 
house  to-day!" 

"Now,  Mom,"  Sadie  turned  on  her  step-mother,  "you 
see  what  you  make  by  coming  here  like  this,  without 
leaving  us  know!  Ain't  you  worrying  us  enough  all  the 
time,  without  raising  more  trouble  between  us  and  Danny's 
wife  yet?" 

"Yes,  yes,  I'll  go.  Please,  my  dear" — she  turned  to 
[274] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

Margaret, — "  leave  me  go.  I'd  rather  die  on  the  way  home 
than  stay  and  make  it  unhappy  for  you,  Margaret !  Danny 
will  take  up  for  them,  you  know,  so  I  can't  stay  and  make 
trouble.  Leave  me  go,  my  dear ! " 

"But  if  you  don't  make  your  mother  welcome  here," 
Margaret  addressed  both  Jennie  and  Sadie,  "I  shall  have 
to  go  with  her.  I  can  take  her  to  Catherine  Hamilton's 
for  the  night.  Or,"  she  added  with  sudden  inspiration, 
"to  Mrs.  Ocksreider's,  and  ask  her  if  she  won't  give  her  a 
bed  until  the  morning.  She  shall  not  take  that  journey 
to-night!" 

Jennie  glared  in  baffled  fury,  while  Sadie  turned  white 
with  dismay. 

"Danny  won't  leave  you  do  such  an  outrageous  thing!" 
the  elder  sister  said  hoarsely. 

"Daniel  can't  stop  me.     Come,  mother." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  you'd  do  as  mean  a  thing  as 
that — take  Mom  to  Mrs.  Ocksreider's  I" 

"But  I  am  so  sure  that  Mrs.  Ocksreider  is  the  very 
person  who  would  be  very  glad  to  receive  her  for  the  night." 

"You  up  and  tell  me  to  my  face  you'd  disgrace  us  like 
that!" 

"But  where  would  the  disgrace  come  in?"  asked  Mar- 
garet innocently. 

"Where  would  the  disgrace  come  in?"  repeated  Jennie 
hotly.  "Don't  you  see  any  disgrace  in  telling  Mrs.  Ocks- 
reider that  we  won't  leave  our  mother  (even  if  she  is  our 
step-mother)  sleep  at  our  place  over  night?" 

"Then  you  admit  that  you  are  acting  disgracefully  in 
turning  her  out?" 

[275] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"You  wait  till  Danny  comes  home  and  he'll  show  you 
if  you  can  go  against  me  like  this  in  his  house!"  Jennie 
violently  threatened,  more  furious  than  ever  at  being 
trapped  by  her  own  words.  "Now  you  leave  Mom  be  till 
I  take  her  out  to  the  car ! " 

"No,  Jennie,  if  she  goes  I  go  with  her — to  our  friend, 
Mrs.  Ocksreider.  Therefore,  it  behooves  you " 

But  it  was  just  at  this  instant  that  the  sitting-room  door 
opened  and  Daniel  walked  into  their  midst. 

"Margaret!  I've  got  an  automobile  at  the  door.  Get 
your  hat " 

He  stopped  short  in  astonishment  at  sight  of  his  step- 
mother, at  Margaret's  attitude  of  shielding  her  against  the 
evidently  furious  antagonism  of  Jennie  and  the  cold  dis- 
approval of  Sadie. 

"  Well?  "  he  demanded  testily.  "  What's  up?  How  did 
you  get  up  here,  mother?  " 

"Yes,  how  did  she,  when  you  gave  her  the  money  to  go 
home  yet?  "  scolded  Sadie. 

Margaret,  leaving  the  statement  of  the  situation  to 
Jennie,  remained  silent. 

"Who  brought  you  up  here?"  Daniel  inquired  of  the 
old  woman. 

"I  come  by  myself,  Danny.  I  wanted  to  see  your  wife 
and  the  twinses,  and  I  conceited  I'd  be  gone  before  the 
girls  got  home.  But  I'll  go  right  aways  now.  I'm  sorry 
I  come.  I  didn't  want  to  make  no  trouble — I " 

She  made  a  movement  from  Margaret's  side,  but  the 
latter  clasped  her  firmly. 

"Margaret,"  commanded  Daniel,  "let  her  go." 
[2761 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"I  have  invited  her  to  spend  the  night  here,  Daniel. 
She  is  not  able  to  go  home  to-night." 

"  I'll  take  care  of  that — this  is  not  your  affair.  Let  her 
alone !  Take  your  hands  off  her ! " 

"Will  you  let  her  spend  the  night  here?" 

"  I  said  I  would  take  care  of  that.  Take  your  hands  off 
her." 

Margaret  obeyed. 

"Now  come  here,  mother." 

Mrs.  Leitzel  walked  feebly  toward  him,  but  Margaret 
walked  beside  her. 

"Now,  you  see,  Danny,  how  contrary  she  acts!"  Jennie 
broke  forth.  "I  wanted  to  take  Mom  out  to  the  trolley 
car  and  Margaret  would  not  leave  her  come  along,  when 
Mom  said  she  wanted  to  come,  too ! " 

"Well,  I'm  here  now,"  returned  Daniel  grimly.  "I'll 
take  you  to  the  station,  mother,"  he  pronounced  conclu- 
sively, taking  the  old  woman's  arm. 

"Daniel!  Your  mother  can't  go  home  alone  this  eve- 
ning !  It  will  be  cruel  of  you  to  send  her ! " 

Daniel,  ignoring  her,  led  his  mother  to  the  hall. 

"I  tell  you  I'm  going  to  stop  this  cruelty!"  cried  Mar- 
garet, darting  upstairs  to  get  her  wraps. 

She  was  down  again  almost  immediately,  her  coat  over 
her  arm,  but  when  she  reached  the  sidewalk  the  automobile 
containing  her  husband  and  his  mother  was  beyond  her 
reach. 

"I  may  be  able  to  get  to  the  station  before  that  five 
o'clock  train!"  she  thought,  starting  almost  on  a  run  to  go 
the  length  of  the  town  to  the  depot,  putting  on  her  coat 

F277] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

and  gloves  as  she  went.  "  I  believe  his  mother  will  die  on 
the  way  if  she  goes,  and  has  to  walk  that  half-mile  alone  in 
the  dark,  after  being  subjected  to  all  this  horrible  scene! 
Oh,  my  God !  What  people  they  are ! " 

She  realized,  on  her  way,  that  her  purse  was  empty,  her 
monthly  allowance  having  been  spent,  and  that  she  had 
not  even  money  for  trolley  car  fares — a  serious  handicap 
in  her  efforts  to  help  Mrs.  Leitzel. 

When,  panting  for  breath,  a  sharp  pain  in  her  side,  she 
reached  the  station,  the  train  to  Martz  was  just  pulling  out. 

Daniel,  smiling  blandly,  came  toward  her  along  the 
platform. 

"God  help  me!"  was  the  cry  of  her  heart,  "that  I  can- 
not even  hate  him — he  is  too  utterly  pitiable!  If  I  could 
hate  him,  there  might  be  some  hope  for  us ! " 

"Want  to  take  a  little  ride,  my  dear?"  he  inquired, 
waving  his  hand  to  the  waiting  automobile. 

"Take  me  home,"  she  returned  weakly,  feeling  suddenly 
collapsed  and  helpless. 

"You  know,"  he  said  as  he  helped  her  into  the  car,  "you 
ought  not  to  excite  yourself  like  this — it's  bad  for  Daniel 
Junior's  milk — about  something,  too,  that  is  no  concern  of 
yours.  And  I  want  to  warn  you  also,"  he  added,  lowering 
his  voice  so  that  the  chauffeur  might  not  hear  him,  as  the 
car  turned  into  the  street,  "  that  you've  got  to  refrain  from 
offending  Jennie  and  Sadie  so  constantly.  They  have  a 
lot  of  money  to  leave  to  our  children.  Keep  on  offending 
them  as  you  are  doing  and  they'll  will  all  they  have  to 
Hiram's  children!"  said  Daniel  in  a  tone  that  expressed 
all  the  horror  that  such  a  possibility  contained  for  him. 

[2781 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

Margaret  did  not  reply. 

"You  get  me? "  Daniel  inquired. 

"Considerations  like  that,  Daniel,  have  never  entered 
into  my  philosophy  of  life,  thank  God ! " 

"Margaret,  you  really  must  break  yourself  of  this 
dreadful  habit  of  swearing!  It's  so  unladylike!  And  so 
unchristian!" 

"Oh,  my  good  Lord,  Daniel!  Don't  dare  to  talk  to 
me  about  anything's  being  'unchristian,'  when  you  have 
just  done  a  cruel,  cruel  thing  to  your  aged,  helpless  mother! 
I  don't  profess  and  loudly  flaunt  my  'Christian  principles,' 
but  I  do  believe  in  the  Golden  Rule.  Evidently  you  don't. 
Don't  speak  to  me!" 

"Hoity-toity!  Cut  out  these  tantrums,  Margaret; 
they're  bad  for  the  boy,  you  know." 

"Why  don't  you  tell  the  Y.  W.  C.  A.  about  your  smart 
'deal'  with  your  tenant,  George  Trout,  and  your  treat- 
ment of  your  step-mother?  Maybe  they'd  send  you 
another  congratulatory  letter  that  you  could  have  pub- 
lished in  the  Intelligencer" 

"You  heed  my  warning  about  offending  Jennie  and 
Sadie,"  was  Daniel's  reply. 

"At  the  time  of  your  father's  death  was  the  title  of  the 
farm  at  Martz  vested  absolutely  in  him?" 

Margaret  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  Daniel  start  and 
turn  red  at  her  question,  as  he  turned  abruptly  and  looked 
at  her. 

"What  makes  you  ask  that?"  he  nervously  demanded. 

"Was  it?"  she  repeated. 

"  Why  do  you  wish  to  know?  " 
[279] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"It  was,"  she  affirmed. 

"How  do  you  know?  "  he  sharply  questioned. 

"That  same  old  Woman's  Intuition." 

"I  insist  on  your  answering  me  intelligibly!  What  do 
you  know  of  business  matters  like  that  am/how?" 

"Not  much,  but  a  little." 

"Understand,  Margaret,  once  and  for  all,  that  my  busi- 
ness affairs  and  that  of  my  folks  are  no  least  concern  of 
yours!" 

"  Yours  are." 

"They  are  not!" 

"Oh,  yes,  they  are,  Daniel.  You  and  I  are  life  partners 
and  I  am  the  mother  of  your  heirs.  Therefore,  I  have 
everything  to  do  with  your  business.  Neither  I  nor  my 
children  shall  live  on  stolen  money." 

"Stolen  money!  You  talk  to  me  of  'stolen  money,' 
when  I  stand  in  this  community  as  the  one  honest,  up- 
right, Christian  lawyer!  Gracious,  Margaret,  I  certainly 
expected  that  after  the  children  were  born  I'd  have  back 
again  the  sweet  girl  I  married!  I'm  beginning  to  feel 
that  I've  been  awfully  taken  in ! " 

Margaret  leaned  back  in  the  automobile,  closed  her 
eyes,  and  did  not  answer.  During  the  remainder  of  the 
ride  the  silence  between  them  was  unbroken. 


[280] 


XXIV 

IMMEDIATELY  after  dinner  Margaret  went  to  her 
room,  got  into  a  neglige,  and  sitting  down  to  her 
writing-desk,  began  a  letter  to  Walter. 

She  stated  the  case  of  the  Leitzel  coal  lands  under  the 
guise  of  Western  gold  mines  and  asked  her  brother-in-law 
to  give  her  all  possible  light  on  the  legality  of  the  case  for 
the  benefit  of  the  "grandmother." 

"If  the  laws  governing  such  a  case  differ  greatly  in  the 
different  states,"  she  wrote,  "please  give  me  all  the  general 
information  on  the  subject  that  you  can.  This  is  a  very 
important  matter  to  me,  Walter,  though  I  can't  tell  you 
why;  nor  can  I  explain  to  you  why  I  consult  you  rather 
than  Daniel  on  a  question  of  law.  The  fact  is,  I  am  pre- 
paring a  little  surprise  for  Daniel." 

At  this  point  in  her  letter  she  paused,  resting  her  elbow 
on  her  desk  and  her  head  on  her  hand.  "Walter  will  see 
right  through  my  disguises  and  subterfuges,"  she  reflected. 
"He  will  understand  perfectly  what  the  surprise  is  that  I 
am  preparing  for  Daniel.  And  in  his  reply  he  will  un- 
doubtedly tell  me  what  the  law  of  Pennsylvania  is  govern- 
ing such  a  case  as  I've  outlined.  Well,"  she  drearily 
sighed,  "  I  can't  help  it  if  he  does  see  through  it,  I  can't  be  a 
party  to  defrauding  that  old  woman,  as  I  would  be  if  I 
consented  to  live  here  on  money  that  ought  to  be  hers." 

[281] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

She  took  up  her  pen  again  and  dipped  it  into  her  ink, 
but  the  bedroom  door  opened  and  Daniel  entered. 

She  looked  so  pretty  in  the  dainty  pink  neglige  which  she 
wore,  and  with  her  abundant  dark  hair  hanging  in  two 
heavy  braids  down  her  back,  that  Daniel,  despite  the  cold- 
ness which  had  prevailed  at  dinner,  came  to  her  side,  put 
his  bony  arm  about  her  shoulders  and  patted  her  bare  arm.  . 

"Writing  to  Walter,  I  see,"  he  remarked;  and  quickly 
she  covered  her  letter  with  a  blotter. 

"Yes,"  she  answered. 

"Glad  you  are.  I've  not  yet  got  an  answer  out  of  him. 
Are  you,  my  dear,  repenting  of  your  unwifely  behaviour 
and  writing  to  him  what  I  want  you  to?" 

"I'm  doing  what  I  consider  my  wifely  duty,  yes." 

"  Good !  I  knew  I'd  get  my  sweet  girl  back  again !  Let 
me  see  what  you've  written.  All  this!"  he  exclaimed, 
reaching  across  the  desk  to  pick  up  her  letter;  but  Mar- 
garet, looking  at  him  in  startled  amazement,  held  him  off. 

"I  haven't  said  you  could  read  my  letter,  Daniel." 

"Do  you  have  secrets  from  me,  Margaret?" 

"Do  you  have  any  from  me,  Daniel? " 

"That's  neither  here  nor  there.  Come,  let  me  see  your 
letter,  my  dear!" 

"  I  don't  wish  to.     Why  do  you  want  to?  " 

"You  are  writing  something  to  your  brother-in-law  you 
don't  want  me  to  know  about?"  he  accused  her,  his  nar- 
row gaze  piercing  her. 

Margaret  quickly  decided  to  resort  to  guile. 

"Daniel,"  she  smiled  upon  him,  "I'm  preparing  a  little 
surprise  for  you." 

[2821 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"A  surprise?  "  he  repeated  suspiciously. 

"  Yes.  Now,  while  I  am  finishing  my  letter,  I  want  you 
to  do  something  for  me.  Will  you  ?  " 

"What?" 

"Is  there  any  way  of  finding  out  by  telephone  or  tele- 
graph," she  asked,  her  eyes  big  and  sad,  her  lips  drooping, 
"whether  your  poor  mother  is  by  this  time  safe  at  home? 
I  shan't  sleep  a  wink  to-night  from  worrying  over  that  half- 
mile  walk  she  had  to  take  after  dark!" 

"She  didn't  have  to  take  the  half-mile  walk.  I  arranged 
for  that.  I  gave  her  a  quarter  to  pay  for  a  'bus  ride  from 
the  station  to  her  house  and  I  'phoned  to  Abe  Schwenck 
to  meet  her  train  with  the  'bus.  Could  I  have  done 
more?" 

"You  really  did  all  that?"  she  asked,  her  face  lighting 
up  with  relief. 

"I  did  all  that.  So  you  see  I'm  not  'cruel'  and  hard- 
hearted. I  did  all  that  for  one  who  is  no  relation  to  me 
and  has  no  claim  on  me." 

"The  claim  of  gratitude?"  Margaret  suggested;  "or 
of  mere  humanity?" 

"As  for  gratitude,  haven't  we  repaid  her  for  her  ten 
years'  service  for  us  by  our  thirty  years  of  taking  care  of 
her?" 

"Taking  care  of  her?" 

"We've  never  charged  her  a  cent  of  rent  for  the  only 
home  she  has  had  for  thirty  years." 

"  Why  wouldn't  you  let  her  stay  here  to-night?" 

"Because  we  don't  want  to  start  that  kind  of  thing, 
or  she'd  be  here  on  our  hands  all  the  time.  Once  we  take 

[283] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

her  in,  we'll  never  be  able  to  shake  her  off,  and  we  don't 
want  her.'* 

"I  see." 

"Of  course  you  see.  JNow  give  me  a  kiss,  3jid  promise 
me  you  will  turn  over  a  new  leaf  and  not  be  so  stubborn 
about  the  care  of  the  babies  and  about  Catherine  Hamilton 
and  about  all  the  other  little  matters  in  which  you  tease 
me  so  that  I've  got  indigestion!"  he  said  fretfully. 

"I  act  only  as  I  must,  Daniel,"  said  Margaret  sadly. 
"It  gives  me  worse  than  indigestion!" 

"Look  at  Hiram's  Lizzie!  She  never  antagonizes  the 
girls  the  way  you  do!"  he  complained,  genuine  anxiety  in 
his  voice. 

"  She  doesn't  live  with  them." 

"Well,  but  don't  you  see  that's  where  we  have  the  ad- 
vantage over  Hiram?  They'll  get  more  attached  to  our 
children  because  they'll  see  more  of  them.  If  you  acted 
toward  my  sisters  as  you  should,  as  your  duty  to  me  and 
to  your  children  requires  that  you  should,  they  might 
leave  nearly  all  they  have  to  our  children,  giving  Hiram's 
children  merely  small  bequests." 

"If  I  should  let  them  have  their  way  with  our  babies, 
they  certainly  would  leave  all  their  money  to  Hiram's 
children,  for  there  wouldn't  be  any  babies  in  this  house. 
They'd  kill  them  off  with  slow  torture." 

"Hiram's  children  haven't  died  and  Lizzie  does  with 
them  as  Jennie  and  Sadie  have  always  advised  her  to  do." 

"Exceptions  to  every  rule,"  Margaret  briefly  replied, 
perfectly  willing  to  shield  Lizzie. 

"Well,"  said  Daniel  emphatically,  "you  keep  up  your 
[284] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

present  injudicious  course,  and  the  day  will  come  when 
your  children  themselves  will  reproach  you  for  having  de- 
prived them,  by  your  sheer  perversity,  of  what  was  justly 
their  due." 

"  I  hope  to  bring  them  up  too  well  for  that.'* 

"And  I  hope  to  bring  them  up  to  have  a  little  more 
judgment  about  money  than  you  have,  my  dear!  Well,  I 
should  say  so!  or  they  would  be  ill-prepared  to  take  care 
of  all  they  will  inherit!" 

"They  will  inherit  a  great  deal,  will  they?"  Margaret 
casually  inquired. 

"Enough  to  need  some  common  sense  in  the  manage- 
ment of  it." 

"Couldn't  you  spare  a  little  from  what  they'll  inherit  to 
keep  that  dear  old  step-mother  of  yours  for  her  remaining 
years?" 

"Margaret!"  said  Daniel  curtly,  "I  tell  you  again  I 
want  no  interference  from  you  in  my  family  affairs!" 

"Well,  then,  can  you,  or  can  you  not,  afford  to  give  me 
more  than  ten  dollars  a  month  for  pocket  money?  I  find 
it  embarrassing  to  be  out  of  money  so  often  as  I  am.  It  is 
my  right  to  know  what  you  can  afford  to  let  me  have." 

"If  you  would  keep  an  account  and  submit  it  to  me,  I 
could  judge  better  of  the  justice  of  your  request  for  more. 
Ten  dollars  a  month  seems  to  me  considerable  money  for  a 
woman  to  spend  on  nothing,  for  you  are  not  expected  to 
buy  your  clothing  and  food  with  your  allowance!" 

Margaret,  toying  with  her  pen,  her  eyes  downcast,  did 
not  answer. 

"If  I  did  increase  your  allowance,  it  would  be  just  like 

[285] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

you  to  pass  it  on  to  my  step-mother!  Positively,  I  be- 
lieve that's  what  you  do  want  to  do  with  it ! " 

"You  are  giving  me  credit  I  don't  deserve.  I  was  ask- 
ing for  the  money  for  myself.  I  am  so  often  embarrassed 
for  lack  of  money.  I  had  to  borrow  a  dollar  from  Catherine 
Hamilton  yesterday  to  pay  Mrs.  Raub  for  washing  my 
hair.  Catherine  said  she'd  collect  it  from  you." 

"Jennie  and  Sadie  wash  their  own  heads." 

"My  hair  is  so  thick  I  can't  dry  it  myself  and,  you  know, 
it  would  be  bad  for  the  baby's  food  if  I  took  cold." 

"Adopt  the  rule  which  helped  to  make  my  success, 
Margaret:  never  let  yourself  get  entirely  out  of  money. 
And,  my  dear,  if  you'd  do  what  I  ask  you  to — give  me 
power  of  attorney — you'd  have  a  little  income  of  your 
very  own.  Why,  don't  you  feel  under  some  obliga- 
tion to  do  something  for  me,  in  return  for  all  I  do  for 
you?" 

"Have  I  done  nothing  for  you?  I  have  given  you  a 
son  and  a  daughter.  Can  anything  you  ever  have  or  ever 
will  do  for  me  cover  that  debt?  " 

"Well,"  Daniel  smiled,  patting  her  neck,  "you  did  pretty 
well  by  me  in  that  instance,  I  must  admit;  and  I  promise 
you  this:  when  you  can  persuade  Walter  Eastman  to  do 
what's  fair  by  you  as  to  Berkeley  Hill,  I  will  increase  your 
allowance." 

Margaret  lifted  her  eyes,  grave  and  melancholy,  to 
Daniel's  face  bent  smilingly  above  her.  "Catherine 
Hamilton  mentioned  yesterday,  Daniel,  when  I  was  obliged 
to  borrow  a  dollar  from  her,  that  she  felt  safe  in  lending  it  to 
me  as  you  were  a  millionaire  and  your  income  was  twenty 

f  2861 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

times   (or  fifty,   I   forget   her  figures)   more  than    you 
spent." 

"  She  has  no  business  discussing  my  finances! " 

"  She  didn't  discuss  them.  She  quite  casually  dropped 
the  remark  (which  I  confess  I  found  rather  startling  in 
view  of  some  things)  that  you  were  a  millionaire  and  could 
not  begin  to  spend  even  a  small  part  of  your  enormous 
income.  Yet  you  let  your  old  step-mother  suffer  and 
subject  me  to  the  embarrassment  of  borrowing  money  to 
pay  a  hairdresser!" 

"It's  your  own  bad  management  that  obliges  you  to 
borrow  at  any  time,"  Daniel  coolly  returned,  not  at  all 
disturbed.  "And  your  constant  disregard  of  my  wishes, 
my  dear,  would  justify  my  cutting  off  your  allowance 
altogether!  But  I  don't  do  it,  do  I?  As  for  Miss  Hamil- 
ton, she's  not  the  excellent  clerk  I  took  her  for!  She  has 
no  sort  of  business  to  discuss  my  income  and  my  expendi- 
tures." 

"  I  envy  her! "  Margaret  suddenly  cried  out  passionately. 
"  She  is  at  least  independent,  self-supporting,  not  a  miser- 
able parasite !  I  wish  I  were  in  her  place,  working  honestly 
for  wages  that  you  would  have  to  pay  me,  instead  of  being 
in  the  degrading  position  of  having  to  ask  you  for  money 
which  you  refuse  me!  I'd  better  have  gone  and  worked 
in  a  factory  than  have  done  what  I  did ! " 

Her  face  fell  on  her  arms  and  wild  sobs  shook  her. 

"Margaret!"  Daniel  cried  in  alarm  and  distress,  his 
arm  about  her.  "My  dear!  You'll  injure  yourself  and 
Daniel  Junior,  if  you  do  so!  Stop  going  on  so!  Oh!"  he 
exclaimed,  "you've  waked  the  babies  with  your  noise!" 

[287] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

A  little  cry  from  the  adjoining  nursery  brought  Margaret 
to  her  feet.  Daniel,  infatuated  quite  humanly  with  his 
beautiful  babies,  followed  her  eagerly,  as,  forgetful  in- 
stantly of  her  own  troubles,  she  went  to  minister  to  her 
children. 


[288] 


XXV 


I 


N  REPLY  to  her  letter  to  her  brother-in-law,  Margaret 
received  from  him,  a  week  later,  a  telegram  that  puz- 
zled her  greatly. 


Charleston,  S.  C. 

Important  Berkeley  estate  business  brings  me  to  New  Munich 
Thursday,  February  tenth. 

WALTER. 

She  had  ten  days  before  his  coming  to  anticipate  with 
some  uneasiness  the  shock  he  would  certainly  get  in  mak- 
ing the  acquaintance  of  her  husband's  sisters  and  in  seeing 
the  kind  of  home  she  lived  in. 

"If  only  I  could  dispose  of  that  navy  blue  owl  on  the 
sideboard!"  she  worried.  "And  of  all  that  imitation 
onyx  in  the  parlour !  And  the  'oil-paintings'  in  the  sitting- 
room!  As  for  Jennie  and  Sadie  themselves Oh, 

what  can  Walter  be  coming  here  for?  I'  don't  suppose 
they've  discovered  coal  on  our  estate.  I  hope  not,  such  a 
dirty  mess  as  it  would  make!  More  like  our  luck  to  dis- 
cover we  don't,  after  all,  own  the  place." 

But  she  found,  when  she  announced  her  brother-in- 
law's  prospective  visit,  that  she  herself  had  not  yet  got  all 
the  shocks  and  surprises  the  Leitzels  were  capable  of 
affording  her.  Her  Southern  sentiment  of  hospitality 

[289] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

received  another  unexpected  blow  in  discovering  that 
Jennie  and  Sadie  quite  seriously  objected  to  entertaining 
her  brother-in-law  at  their  home. 

"We  ain't  used  to  comp'ny  stopping  here,"  Jennie  ex- 
plained to  her.  "Danny's  business  acquaintances  always 
go  to  the  hotel.  It  wouldn't  suit  me  just  so  well.  We 
ain't  so  young  as  we  used  to  be,  and  it  would  certainly  be 
a  worry  to  me  to  have  company  stopping  here.  You'd 
best  not  begin  that  kind  of  thing,  Margaret.  If  your 
brother-in-law  slep'  and  eat  here,  it  would  mebby  give  our 
Sadie  the  headache." 

That  New  Munich  hospitality,  instead  of  being  a  con- 
dition of  daily  life  as  with  Southerners,  was  so  specialized 
an  occasion  as  to  cause  the  upsetting  of  a  household  and 
the  expenditure  of  the  nervous  energy  of  a  whole  family, 
Margaret  had  come  to  recognize.  People  did  not  "keep 
open  house";  they  "entertained."  But  how  was  she  to 
spring  such  a  thing  upon  Walter,  who  knew  no  other 
standard  of  hospitality  than  that  of  the  open  Southern 
home?  How  explain  to  him  upon  his  arrival  that  her 
home  and  her  husband's  was  not  open  to  him,  and  that  he 
must  stop  at  a  hotel? 

She  had  not  at  all  solved  the  problem  when  in  a  wholly 
unlooked-for  way  it  was  solved  for  her.  Confined  to  bed 
one  day  with  a  violent  headache,  and  quite  helpless  to 
protect  her  babies  from  Jennie's  hygienic  theories,  the 
twins  were  kept  by  their  aunt  in  a  hot,  airtight  room  such 
as  Jennie  considered  their  proper  environment,  with 
the  result  that  they  cried  all  day;  and  the  next  day  had 
heavy  colds — their  first  disorder  of  any  kind  since  their 

[290] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

birth.  But  when  Margaret,  herself  recovered,  insisted 
upon  taking  them,  suffering  from  influenza  as  they 
were,  out  into  the  chill  air  of  a  cold  day  in  January, 
Jennie's  thwarted  will,  thwarted  affection,  and  wild 
anxiety  for  these  babies  of  Danny's  whom  she  loved 
almost  fiercely,  broke  all  bounds,  and  she  gave  Margaret 
her  ultimatum. 

"Or  either  you  keep  those  children  in  the  house  till 
they're  well  already,  or  either  I  and  Sadie  leave  this  house 
where  we  have  to  look  on  at  such  croolities,  and  go  to  keep 
house  by  ourselves !  Yes,  this  very  day  we  go ! " 

Margaret  paused  in  the  strenuous  work  of  getting  little 
Daniel's  arms  into  his  coat  sleeves,  preparatory  to  his 
outing,  and  gazed  up  at  Jennie  with  such  a  light  of  joyful 
hope  in  her  eyes  that  Jennie,  had  she  not  been  too  blindly 
furious  to  see  it,  would  certainly  have  withdrawn  this 
proffered  happiness  from  her  now  heartily  detested  sister- 
in-law. 

"If  Danny  wasn't  in  Philadelphia  to-day,  I'd  'phone  to 
his  office  and  have  him  make  you  keep  them  in!"  she  raged 
frantically.  "They'll  get  pneumonia,  so  they  will!" 

"Daniel  couldn't  make  me,  Jennie.  I  act  under  the 
doctor's  orders.  Daniel's  a  lawyer,  not  a  physician.  I'm 
taking  the  babies  out  to  save  them  from  having  pneu- 
monia." 

"Daniel  couldn't  make  you,  couldn't  he?  Well,  /  can! 
Yes,  and  I  mean  what  I  say!  You  take  these  babies  out 
on  a  day  like  this  when  they're  sick,  and  I  and  Sadie 
move  out  this  very  day!"  she  harshly  reiterated,  under  the 
delusion  that  Margaret  would  never  put  her  to  the  test: 

[291] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

for  not  only  was  Jennie  incapable  of  realizing  Margaret's 
utter  indifference  to  the  economic  advantage  of  their 
joint  housekeeping,  but  it  also  seemed  to  her  wholly  in- 
credible that  her  sister-in-law  could  subject  her  devoted 
and  indulgent  husband  to  the  suffering  he  would  certainly 
undergo  if  deprived  of  his  sisters'  constant  ministrations 
to  his  comforts. 

"And  when  Danny  comes  home  from  Philadelphia  to- 
night and  finds  us  gone  and  our  half  of  the  furniture  being 
moved  out,  what  do  you  think  he'll  say  to  you  for  driving 
us  out?" 

Margaret,  realizing  that  she  must  conceal  the  heaven 
opened  up  by  this  unexpected  ultimatum,  quickly  cast 
down  her  eyes,  that  her  tormentor  might  not  see  her  quiv- 
ering eagerness. 

"I'll  goad  her  to  moving  out!"  she  desperately  resolved. 
"Oh!  if  only  I  can  make  it  impossible  for  her  to  back  down 
from  her  threat." 

She  suddenly  raised  her  eyes  again  and  laughed  sar- 
castically. "Oh,  you  can't  scare  me  with  your  threats! 
Fow'ZZnotgo!" 

"You'll  see  whether  we  won't!  You  just  dare  to  take 
those  sick  children  outside  this  house,  and  you  won't  find 
I  and  Sadie  here  when  you  come  home ! " 

"That  won't  worry  me.  You'll  be  back  soon  enough. 
Catch  you  leaving  your  brother's  house !  Oh,  no,  my  dear, 
you  don't  fool  me  for  one  minute.  Why,  where  on  earth 
would  you  go?" 

"Maybe  you  don't  know,"  put  in  Sadie  triumphantly, 
"that  Jennie  and  me  own  the  nice  empty  house  at  the 

[292] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

corner  that  the  tenants  moved  out  of  because  we  wouldn't 
repaper!" 

"Yes,"  exclaimed  Jennie,  "we  own  it  and  it's  empty; 
and  it's  all  been  cleaned  only  last  week  a'ready.  So  then 
you  see  if  we  couldn't  move  out  of  here  perfectly  conveni- 
ent!" 

Margaret's  hopes  rose  higher,  while  at  the  same  time 
she  suffered  fearful  misgivings  lest  by  any  inadvertency 
on  her  part  they  be  dashed. 

"Ha!"  she  laughed  derisively  and  most  artificially. 
"  You'd  never  move  in  there  and  lose  the  rent  of  that  house ! 
You  can't  fool  me!  I'm  not  scared.  Come,  baby  dear, 
other  little  arm  now!"  she  said,  tugging  at  Daniel  Junior's 
coat.  "Fancy  your  moving  out!  Ha!" 

Her  utterly  unnatural  tone  of  taunting  sarcasm  ought 
not  to  have  deceived  even  so  slow  a  mind  as  Jennie  Leit- 
zel's,  but  the  woman's  rage  dulled  what  penetration  she 
ordinarily  had  and  she  was  completely  misled. 

"I'm  not  trying  to  fool  you!"  she  almost  screamed. 
"  I  tell  you  that  sure  as  you  go  out  the  door  with  those  two 
twins,  my  brother,  when  he  comes  home  this  evening,  will 
find  us  and  our  furniture  gone,  never  to  come  back!  I'll 
prove  it  to  you,  I'll  prove  it !  And  we'll  take  Emmy  along, 
and  there'll  be  no  dinner  for  my  poor  brother  when  he 
comes  home!" 

"Oh,  yes,  there  will,"  Margaret  laughed  quite  sardoni- 
cally. "There  will  be  dinner  and  there  will  be  two  dear, 
devoted  sisters.  If  you  do  take  your  departure,  you'll  be 
back  soon  enough!"  Her  unnatural  tones  kept  it  up, 
every  phrase  carefully  calculated  to  force  the  consum- 

[293] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

mation  she  so  devoutly  wished,  though  inwardly  her  very 
soul  was  sick  at  the  part  she  played;  for  deep  down  in  her 
heart  there  was  an  undercurrent  of  pity  for  these  poor 
creatures  so  limited  in  their  capacity  for  happiness  and  yet 
capable  of  fiercely  loving  the  babies  so  dear  to  them  all 
and  the  brother  they  had  cherished  from  babyhood. 

"You'll  see,  then,  if  we'll  come  back  again!"  Jennie 
hoarsely  harked  back  at  her.  "Yes,  you'll  see!  And 
you'll  see  what  Danny'll " 

Margaret  having  tucked  the  babies  warmly  into  their 
coach,  laughed  again  devilishly  as  she  wheeled  them  out 
to  the  porch. 

"You'll  be  back!  Bye-bye  until  I  see  you  again!" 
And  with  a  peal  of  mocking  laughter,  so  cleverly  melo- 
dramatic that  she  marvelled  at  her  own  hitherto  unsus- 
pected histrionic  talent,  she  disappeared. 

And  so  it  transpired  that  the  marriage  of  Daniel  Leitzel 
afforded  one  more  sensation  to  New  Munich's  not  yet 
surfeited  taste  for  gossip  concerning  their  notable  towns- 
man; for  when  Daniel  got  home  that  evening  at  seven 
o'clock  he  found  a  dismantled  and  disordered  house,  no 
dinner,  no  cook,  no  sisters;  only  two  sweetly  sleeping 
babies  in  the  nursery  and  a  wife  with  a  face  uplifted  with 
a  new-born  happiness  and  peace.  So  deep  was  the  serenity 
that  had  settled  upon  her  and  upon  the  servantless,  dis- 
mantled, and  disordered  household,  that  Daniel's  rage 
and  grief,  his  bitter  reproaches,  his  lamentations  over 
the  extra  expense  his  home  would  now  be  to  him  passed 
over  her  head  as  though  it  were  nothing  more  than  the 
somewhat  irritating  cackle  of  an  old  hen. 

[294] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

Daniel,  after  a  call  on  his  sisters  at  their  new  home  down 
at  the  corner  and  a  long  and  painful  interview  with  them, 
in  which  they  affirmed  that  unless  he  exercised  his  marital 
and  scriptural  authority  to  make  Margaret  apologize  and 
promise  that  in  the  future  she  would  treat  them  and  their 
wishes  with  the  consideration  which  was  their  due,  they 
would  not  return  to  his  house,  though  from  this  close 
proximity  to  him  they  could  and  would  continue  to  see 
after  his  comforts — after  this  most  unsatisfactory  and 
upsetting  conversation  with  his  sisters,  Daniel  went  to  his 
bed  very  late  that  night,  feeling,  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life,  that  he  was  abused  of  Fate;  but  Margaret  lay  awake 
long,  revelling  ecstatically  in  the  realization  that  now  at 
last  she  had  a  home  of  her  very  own;  two  lovely  babies 
on  whom  she  could  expend  the  pent-up  riches  of  her  heart 
and  in  whom  her  own  highest  ideals  might  perhaps  be 
wrought  out;  a  friend  who  deeply  shared  her  life  and  whom 
now  she  could  freely  bring  into  the  sanctum  of  her  own 
home.  Oh,  life  was  full  and  rich!  She  was  young,  she 
was  strong,  she  was  happy. 

The  husband  asleep  at  her  side  was  a  negligible  quantity 
in  her  estimate  of  her  blessings;  he  was  a  responsibility 
she  had  incurred  and  to  which  she  certainly  meant  to  be 
faithful.  It  was  not  in  his  power  to  make  her  very  un- 
happy. 

But  Margaret  was,  in  fact,  rejoicing  a  little  too  soon. 
Jennie  and  Sadie  had  gone  out  from  her  home,  but  they 
had  not  yet  gone  out  of  her  life,  as  she  was  to  realize  later. 

Daniel's  anger  was  not  modified  when,  next  morning, 
he  was  obliged,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  to  get  up  and 

[2951 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

attend  to  the  furnace  and  the  kitchen  range.  Margaret 
judiciously  repressed  her  amusement  at  his  plight. 

"Oh,  well,  dear,  you  are  not  the  only  one.  It's  the  first 
time  in  my  life  I  ever  had  to  get  up  and  get  breakfast," 
she  offered  what  seemed  to  him  most  irrelevant  consola- 
tion. 

"Marriage,"  she  reflected  philosophically  when,  with- 
out kissing  her  good-bye,  he  left  her  to  go  to  his  office, 
"must  be  an  adjusting  of  one's  self  to,  and  acceptance  of, 
the  inevitable,  Daniel  being  the  Inevitable!" 

She  decided,  as  she  called  up  the  Employment  Office, 
that  she  needed  three  servants,  but  she  did  not  have  the 
temerity  to  engage  more  than  one.  For  here  was  a  point 
at  which  Daniel  held  the  whip-hand:  he  could  refuse  to 
pay  the  wages  of  those  he  considered  superfluous,  and  she 
had  no  money  of  her  own. 

"As  Jennie  and  Sadie  paid  half  of  Emmy's  wages," 
she  reflected,  "it  will  go  hard  with  Daniel  to  have  to  pay 
the  maid  entirely  himself.  Anyway,"  she  rejoiced,  "I 
shan't  now  have  to  send  Walter  to  a  hotel." 


[296] 


XXVI 

MARGARET  bent  all  her  energies  to  readjusting 
the  household — her  household  now — in  prepara- 
tion for  Walter's  visit,  to  which  she  could,  under 
these  changed  conditions,  look  forward  with  eager  pleas- 
ure.    But  here  again  she  ran  upon  a  snag. 

"Every  cloud  has  a  silver  lining,"  Daniel  sentimentally 
remarked,  preparatory  to  the  discussion  of  the  new  furni- 
ture necessary  to  replace  what  his  sisters  had  removed. 
"  You  can  now  have  your  own  things  sent  up  from  the  Ber- 
keley Hill  home.  Hah*  of  all  that  old  mahogany,  silver, 
rugs,  books,  and  pictures.  I  couldn't  afford  to  buy  such  val- 
uable furniture  as  you've  got  there.  And  solid  silver, 
too." 

"Strip  Berkeley  Hill,  my  sister's  home!  and  bring  those 
things  into  this  house!"  Margaret  almost  gasped.  "But 
don't  you  see,  Daniel,  this  isn't  the  sort  of  house  for  old 
colonial  furniture?  It  would  be  incongruous.  What 
this  house  needs  is  early  Victorian." 

"The  freightage  on  your  things  won't  come  to  nearly 
so  much  as  new  furniture  would  cost,  even  though  we 
bought  the  grade  of  stuff  the  girls  had  here.  And  you  can 
tell  your  sister  Harriet  that  I'll  pay  for  the  crating  and 
packing.  It  isn't  right  that  I  should,  for  they've  had  the 
use  of  your  things  all  this  time,  but  you  can  tell  her  I'm 

[297] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

perfectly  willing  to  do  that.     Or,  never  mind  writing  to 
her;  we  can  arrange  it  with  Walter  when  he  comes." 

So  strong  was  Margaret's  sentiment  for  Berkeley  Hill 
that  it  would  have  hurt  her  as  much  to  see  its  familiar 
furnishings  in  this  alien  setting  in  New  Munich  as  it  would 
have  hurt  Harriet  to  strip  her  home.  She  did  not,  how- 
ever, pursue -the  discussion  with  Daniel.  Walter  would 
be  privately  informed  as  to  her  wishes  in  the  matter;  and 
the  places  left  bare  by  Jennie's  and  Sadie's  departure  would 
remain  bare  until  Daniel  saw  fit  to  buy  furniture  to  fill 
them. 

Meantime,  she  managed,  though  with  difficulty,  to 
prepare,  with  what  furniture  she  had,  a  comfortable  room 
for  her  brother-in-law. 

"If  Daniel  were  poor,  I'd  feel  I  ought  to  help  him  out, 
painful  as  it  would  be  to  me  to  see  any  part  of  Berkeley 
Hill  installed  here.  But  he  doesn't  need  to  be  helped  out. 
Far  from  it!" 

Daniel  assumed  Walter's  visit  to  mean  that  at  last  this 
slow-moving  Southerner  had  got  round  to  the  point  of 
noticing  his  insistent  demands  for  a  settlement  of  Mar- 
garet's share  in  Berkeley  Hill.  So  he  awaited  his  arrival 
with  much  complacency. 

Walter  Eastman  reached  New  Munich  at  ten  o'clock 
one  Wednesday  morning  and  Margaret  met  him  at  the 
station.  By  the  time  Daniel  came  home  to  luncheon  at 
one  o'clock  the  "important  Berkeley  Hill  business"  of 
which  Walter  had  telegraphed  was  entirely  concluded 
between  him  and  Margaret,  as  were  also  a  few  other  items 
of  importance. 

[298] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"For  the  present,  Walter,  I  prefer  not  to  tell  Daniel 
about  this  news  you  have  brought  me,"  she  suggested  at 
the  end  of  their  interview,  which,  by  the  way,  found  her 
rather  white  and  agitated. 

"But  of  course  you  understand,  my  dear,"  returned 
Walter,  "that  you  can't  keep  him  in  ignorance  of  it  long?" 

"  Of  course  not.     Just  a  few  days.    Perhaps  not  so  long." 

"Any  special  reason  for  deferring  such  a  pleasant  an- 
nouncement?" 

"I  want  to  spring  it  on  him  as  a  palliative,  a  sort  of 
compensation,  for  something  else  which  won't  prove  so 
pleasant." 

"Ah,  by  the  way,"  said  Walter  with  apparent  irrele- 
vancy, crossing  his  long  legs  as  they  sat  together  on  a  sofa 
of  the  now  very  bare  sitting-room,  "what  was  the  meaning, 
Margaret,  of  all  that  bluff  you  put  up  on  me  about  Western 
gold  mines  owned  by  a  friend  of  yours  who  thought  per- 
haps his  step-mother  had  a  legal  claim,  and  so  forth. 
Quite  a  case  you  made  out!" 

"It's  a  true  case.  I'm  much  interested  in  it.  And 
Daniel's  clerk  happened  to  know  that  the  land  was  vested 
in  the  step-mother's  husband  at  the  time  of  his  death  and 
that  he  died  without  a  will.  What  I  want  you  to  tell  me 
now  is  this :  can  any  power  on  earth  keep  that  widow  from 
her  one  third  interest  in  those  coal— gold  mines,  if  she 
claim  her  share?" 

"No,  if  she  has  never  signed  away  her  rights." 

"She  hasn't  done  that." 

"You  say  your  husband's  clerk  was  working  on  the  case? 
Then  it's  the  case  of  a  client  of  his?  " 

[299] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"Yes,  the  case  of  a  client  of  his." 

"And  a  friend  of  yours,  you  said?" 

"Yes.  His  clerk  wasn't  exactly  working  on  it;  she 
simply  told  me,  when  I  asked  her,  that  she  knew  the  mining 
land  to  have  been  vested  absolutely  in  the  husband." 

"And  you  wrote  me  that  the  step-mother  has  not  had 
her  share  because  she's  too  ignorant  to  claim  it,  and  that 
she's  in  want.  That  right?  " 

"Yes." 

"I  should  say,  then,  no  mercy  should  be  shown  those 
who  have  defrauded  her.  They  should  be  made  to  pay 
up,  especially  as  it  was  this  old  woman's  hard  labour  and 
self-sacrifice  in  the  first  place  (so  you  wrote)  that  saved 
the  home  and  land  for  the  family." 

"Tell  me,  Walter,  dear,  how  shall  the  old  woman  set 
about  getting  her  dues?" 

"Simply  hire  a  lawyer  to  bring  suit." 

"But  her  religion  forbids  her  to  go  to  law." 

"Then  you're  stumped.     Nothing  to  be  done." 

"But  I've  learned  that  sometimes  the  New  Mennonites 
allow  some  one  else  to  bring  suit  for  them." 

"Aha!"  laughed  Walter.  "All  right.  Let  her  have  her 
lawyer  bring  suit  for  her." 

"Can  he  surely  recover  her  share?" 

"Surely,  if  all  the  facts  you've  given  me  are  correct, 
her  share  can  be  reclaimed  without  a  struggle." 

"I'm  certain  that  all  the  facts  I've  given  you  are  cor- 
rect." 

"You  seem  to  be  certain  of  a  good  deal  about  these  far- 
distant  acquaintances  of  whom  I  never  heard,  Margaret." 

[3001 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

Margaret  cast  down  her  eyes,  her  face  flushing;  but 
after  an  instant:  "Thank  you,  Walter,"  she  said.  "I'm 
very  much  indebted  to  you.  One  more  favour:  kindly 
refrain  from  mentioning  this  case  of  the  silver  mines  to 
Daniel." 

"'Silver' mines?" 

"Gold  mines.  Ah,  here  he  comes  now!  And  not  a 
word,  remember,  of  the  news  you've  brought  me!" 

"All  right,  my  dear." 

"And  as  for  the  furnishings  of  Berkeley  Hill;  sit  tight 
and  don't  argue.  Daniel  always  comes  round  to  my  way 
in  the  end,  but  it  takes  a  bit  of  time  and  diplomacy." 

"Poor  Daniel,  he's  like  the  rest  of  us,  henpecked  lot  that 
we  are!"  Walter  teased  her.  "He  comes  round  to  your 
way  because  he's  got  to;  no  escape!  But  if  I  know  your 
Pennsylvania  Dutch  Daniel,  Margaret,  and  his  letters 
to  me  have  been  very  self -revealing,  he  wishes  sometimes 
that  the  good  old  wife-beating  days  were  with  us  yet!" 

"No,  Daniel  isn't  like  that;  he  isn't  a  bit  brutal — at 
least  in  the  sense  of  rough.  He's  very  gentle,  really." 

Daniel,  now  knowing  his  brother-in-law  to  be  an  im- 
pecunious and,  by  Leitzel  standards,  rather  an  incapable, 
unimportant  sort  of  a  man,  manifested  in  his  curt  greeting 
of  him  the  small  esteem  he  felt  for  him. 

But  he  found,  during  his  noon  hour  of  respite,  that  his 
repeated  efforts  to  talk  business  with  this  discounted  in- 
dividual were  very  skilfully  parried. 

"We  have  a  pretty  big  bill,  Eastman,  against  that 
South  Carolina  estate,"  he  began  over  his  soup.  "A 
whole  year's  rent,  you  know,  for  Margaret's  hah*  of  the 

[301] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

house,  land,  and  furniture.  But  Margaret  is  willing  to 
waive  that,  in  fact,  quite  willing,  and  I  concur  in  her  will- 
ingness. We  shan't  press  that.  We'll  let  that  go,  es- 
pecially now  that  you've  come  to  settle  up.  If  you'd 
waited  much  longer,  we  might  not  have  been  so  willing 
to  waive  the  year's  rent.  Eh,  Margaret?" 

"Please,  Daniel!"  Margaret  murmured,  hot  with  shame 
as  she  saw  Walter's  crimson  embarrassment  and  rising 
anger. 

"Well,  of  course,  I  don't  mean,"  said  Daniel,  who  con- 
sidered himself  a  remarkably  tactful  man,  "  that  Margaret 
would  have  gone  so  far  as  to  bring  suit.  Not  against  her 
own  sister,  certainly.  Nor  would  7,  either,  sanction  such 
an  extreme  measure.  But  right  is  right,  you  know,  and 
law  is  law." 

"I've  got  a  case  on  my  hands,"  retorted  Walter,  avoiding 
Margaret's  eye,  "of  a  widow  who  for  over  thirty  years  has 
received  no  rent  for  her  third  share  of  some  mines — oh, 
silver  mines." 

"You  ought  to  draw  a  big  fee  for  a  case  like  that!"  ex- 
claimed Daniel,  his  eyes  gleaming.  "A  regular  big  haul; 
enough  to  set  you  up  for  life!  Silver  mines!  Well,  I 
should  say!" 

"  I  don't  expect  to  get  much  out  of  it." 

"You'll  never  get  much  out  of  anything,"  grumbled 
Daniel,  "the  way  you  do  business!" 

"Sometimes,  however,  business  men  are  so  extremely 
devoted  to  their  own  interests,  to  the  exclusion  of  all 
human  appeal  and  all  natural  ties,  that  their  'vaulting 
ambition  o'erleaps  itself.'" 

[302] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"Ah,  Shakespeare!"  nodded  Daniel.  "Very  aptly 
quoted.  Yes,  but  the  prudent,  astute  business  man  looks 
ahead  and  on  all  sides  before  he  Vaults.'  I've  never 
taken  one  hasty,  ill-considered  step  in  my  life.  And  look 
at  the  result!  I've  a — a  very  comfortable  living,"  he 
concluded,  with  a  furtive  glance  at  his  wife. 

"The  modern  rule  for  getting  rich,"  Walter,  having 
quite  recovered  his  equanimity,  casually  remarked,  "seems 
to  be  to  skin  other  people." 

"Ah,  but  you  go  about  it  too  clumsily,  my  friend!" 
returned  Daniel,  grinning.  "  Don't  try  to  skin  people  who 
have  all  the  law  and,  I  may  say,  all  the  brains  on  their 
side!" 

Walter  stared.     "  /  try  to  skin  people ! " 

"Well,  it  wouldn't  be  very  civil  of  me,  would  it,  when 
you  are  my  guest  at  my  own  table,  to  accuse  you  of  trying 
to  skin  my  wife  and  me  of  her  half  of  Berkeley  Hill?  I 
hope  I  am  a  man  of  too  much  tact  to  commit  a  breach  of 
hospitality  and  etiquette  like  that!  But  this  I  will 
say " 

Margaret,  however,  seeing  her  husband  to-day  with 
Walter's  eyes,  was  so  swept  with  shame  that  she  could  not 
endure  it.  "  Daniel ! "  she  interposed,  fearing  that  Walter, 
with  Southern  heat,  would  rise  and  slay  her  husband,  "do 
let  me  enjoy  Walter  for  one  day  without  bothering  about 
business,  won't  you?  Wait  until  to-night  to  talk  things 

out." 

"As  I'm  obliged  to  get  back  to  the  office  by  two  o'clock, 
I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  wait  until  this  evening.  But 
I've  already  waited  over  a  year!"  said  Daniel,  glancing 

[303] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

at  Walter  to  note  the  embarrassment  he  expected  his 
brother-in-law  to  feel  at  this  thrust. 

But  Walter  was,  by  this  time,  beyond  feeling  anything 
but  wonder  and  amusement  at  Leitzel's  conversation, 
with,  also,  a  sense  of  consternation  at  his  fresh  realization 
of  poor  Margaret's  fate  in  being  saddled  to  a  "mate"  like 
this,  who,  apparently,  let  her  have  none  of  the  compen- 
sations which  his  huge  wealth  might  have  afforded 
her. 

"But  you  know,"  he  trivially  replied  to  Daniel's  thrust, 
"  'all  things  come  to  him  who  waits.'  You  waited  pretty 
long  for  a  wife,  didn't  you,  Mr.  Leitzel,  and  now  you've 
got  one — very  much  so! — a  hotheaded  little  Southerner, 
with  ideals  of  chivalry  and  honour  and  honesty  which  I 
fear  must  make  your  hair  stand  up  sometimes,  you  bloated 
capitalist!  Yes,  in  these  days,  when  a  man  marries,  he 
finds  himself  very  much  married,  eh,  Leitzel?"  he  inquired 
with  a  lightness  which  Daniel  thought  extremely  unbe- 
coming under  the  circumstances. 

"Well,"  he  retorted  irritably,  "I'll  admit  that  sometimes 
I  do  think  I'm  a  little  too  much  married!" 

"I'm  afraid  we've  lost  the  art  of  keeping  them  within 
their  'true  sphere';  they've  got  rather  beyond  us  in  these 
days,  haven't  they?" 

"They're  not  nearly  so  womanly  as  they  used  to  be!" 
said  Daniel  sullenly. 

"But  what  are  we  going  to  do  about  it,  poor  shrimps 
that  we  are?  Suppose,  for  instance,  that  a  man's  wife 
has  a  quixotic  idea  of  honour,  eccentric  scruples  about 
using  money  she  thinks  was  not  come  by  in  quite  an  ideal 

[304] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

way,  what's  a  corporation  lawyer  going  to  do  about  it, 
if  she  sets  up  her  will,  eh?  " 

"There  are  the  quite  easy  divorce  courts,"  said  Daniel 
darkly. 

"But  there  is  also  alimony." 

"The  marriage  laws  of  our  land,"  affirmed  Daniel, 
"ought  to  be  revised." 

"They  will  be,  as  soon  as  women  get  the  vote,"  said 
Walter.  "And  then " 

But  Margaret,  fearing  the  lengths  to  which  her  brother- 
in-law  might  go  in  this  reckless  mood,  brought  the  talk 
abruptly  to  an  end. 

"It's  a  quarter  to  two,  Daniel.  You'll  be  late  to  your 
office.  I'll  have  dessert  brought  in  at  once.  And  you 
know  it  always  takes  you  fifteen  minutes  to  say  good-bye 
to  the  children.  It  feels  so  grand,  Walter,  to  refer  to 
'the  children!'  In  the  plural!  I  can't  yet  believe  or 
realize  it !  And  as  for  Daniel — well,  he's  a  Comic  Supple- 
ment, you  know,  about  those  twins,"  she  rattled  on,  keep- 
ing the  talk,  during  the  remainder  of  the  luncheon,  away 
from  thin  ice.  So  that  at  last,  when  Daniel  rose  to  go 
away,  the  suspicion  roused  by  his  brother-in-law's  remarks 
had  been  brushed  aside  and  lost  sight  of;  for  the  time  being, 
at  least. 


[305] 


XXVII 

DANIEL  LEITZEL'S  marriage  had  revealed  to 
him  a  trait  in  himself  of  which  he  had  never  before 
been  conscious,  a  trait  which  no  circumstances  of 
his  life,  hitherto,  had  roused  into  action;  he  discovered, 
through  his  love  for  Margaret,  that  he  could  be  intensely 
jealous.  Any  least  bit  of  her  bestowed  otherwhere  than 
upon  himself  was  sure  to  arouse  in  his  heart  this  most 
painful  emotion.  He  was  jealous  of  her  passion  for  books; 
of  her  friendship  for  Catherine  Hamilton;  of  her  devotion 
to  the  twins;  and  now,  to-day,  of  her  evidently  chummy 
relation  with  her  brother-in-law.  It  was,  then,  not  only 
his  eagerness  to  get  down  to  real  business  with  Walter 
Eastman  that  made  him  hurry  through  his  office  work  and 
get  home  an  hour  earlier  than  usual,  but  it  was  also  the 
uncomfortable  jealousy  he  felt  for  Eastman,  together 
with  a  return,  during  the  afternoon,  of  the  vague  suspicion 
Eastman's  rambling,  enigmatical  remarks  at  luncheon  had 
roused  in  his  mind,  that  goaded  him. 

The  fact  was  that  some  things  Walter  had  said,  as  they 
kept  recurring  to  Daniel,  were  coming  to  have  a  sinister 
significance. 

To  his  keen  disappointment  and  chagrin,  however,  he 
found,  when  he  got  home,  that  neither  his  wife  nor  their 
guest  was  in  the  house. 

[306] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

Seeking  out  the  very  capable  maid  Margaret  had  suc- 
ceeded in  securing,  he  discovered  her  in  a  state  of  sulky 
indignation  that  would  scarcely  vouchsafe  to  him  a  civil 
or  intelligible  answer  to  his  inquiries. 

"Where  is  Mrs.  Leitzel,  Amanda?" 

"  I  don't  know  where  your  wife's  at.  She  went  out  with 
that  fellah,"  the  girl  crossly  replied. 

"'Fellah?'"  repeated  Daniel,  indignant  in  his  turn  at 
what,  even  in  a  New  Munich  servant,  seemed  very  rude 
familiarity. 

"The  fellah  you're  eatin'  and  sleepin'  here,"  elucidated 
Amanda. 

"  Did  she  take  the  twins  with  her?  " 

"No,  sir,  she  did  not;  she  left  'em  in  my  charge!" 

"Why,  then,  are  you  not  with  them?"  Daniel  asked  in 
quick  anxiety. 

"I  was  with  'em  till  them  two  women  come  in  here 
interf  erin' ! " 

"Two  women?  Ah,  my  sisters!  Are  they  here? 
Where  are  they?" 

"Out  there  on  the  porch  wakin'  up  them  two  babies  your 
wife  left  asleep,  with  me  in  charge  of  'em !  If  them  women 
hadn't  of  been  two  of  them  to  one  of  me,  they  wouldn't 
of  got  the  chanct  to  wake  up  them  twinses,  you  bet  you!" 

Daniel  banged  the  kitchen  door  spitefully  and  started 
for  his  sisters,  his  sore  and  lacerated  soul  crying  out  for 
the  sympathy,  the  consolation  their  own  aggrieved  spirits 
would  offer  to  his  wrongs  and  worries  at  the  hands  of  a 
wife  who,  owing  him  everything,  seemed  to  find  her  chief 
occupation  in  irritating  and  thwarting  him. 

[307] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

He  found  Jennie  and  Sadie  bending  solicitously  over  the 
twins,  who,  roused  from  their  regular  sleep,  were  wailing 
fretfully. 

"Yes,  Danny,  no  wonder  your  poor  babies  cry!"  Jennie 
exclaimed  as  he  appeared.  "All  alone  out  here  in  the 
cold,  on  a  day  like  this  yet!  Yes,  this  is  where  we  found 
'em  when  we  come  in!  This  is  where  you  can  find  'em 
most  any  time!" 

"We  saw  Margaret  start  out  walking  with  a  strange 
young  man,  Danny,"  Sadie  explained,  "and  we  come 
right  over  to  see  whatever  had  she  done  with  these  poor 
babies;  and  this  is  where  we  found  them — alone  out  here 
in  the  cold." 

"They  wasn't  alone,  no  such  a  thing!"  Amanda  shouted 
from  the  doorway  whither  she  had  followed  Daniel.  "I 
was  right  in  here  with  my  eye  on  'em  every  minute,  like 
Missus  give  me  my  orders  before  she  went  out  a'ready! 
I'm  a  trustworthy  person,  I'd  like  you  to  know,  if  I  am 
a  poor  workin'  girl,  and  I  ain't  takin'  no  insults  /" 

"Nobody  is  blaming  you,"  Daniel  snapped  back  at  her. 

"Yes,  they  are,  too!  These  here  two  women  come  in 
here  and  begun  orderin'  me  round  like  as  if  they  was 
hirin'  me !  I  take  my  orders  from  one  Missus,  not  from 
three!" 

"We  told  her  to  bring  the  coach  indoors  and  she  flatly 
refused!"  cried  Jennie. 

"  My  orders,"  said  Amanda,  folding  her  arms  and  stand- 
ing at  defiance,  "was  to  leave  'em  out.  When  Missus  tells 
me  to  bring  'em  in,  I'll  bring  'em  in.  Not  till." 

"Amanda,"  said  Daniel  impressively,  "these  ladies  are 
[308] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

my  sisters  and  when  they  tell  you  to  do  a  thing,  you  must 
do  it." 

"  Do  they  hire  me  and  pay  me  my  wages?  " 

"/  hire  you  and  pay  you  your  wages." 

"Then  have  I  got  four  bosses  yet  at  this  here  place? 
Not  if  I  know  it!" 

"Take  this  coach  into  the  house ! "  ordered  Daniel. 

"  When  Missus  tells  me  to.     See?  " 

"Danny,"  Sadie  offered  a  suggestion,  "leave  me  take 
the  babies  over  to  our  house  while  their  mother  is  away. 
The  idea  of  her  going  off  like  this  and  leaving  these  poor 
infant  twins  in  the  care  of  a  hired  girl  that  she  ain't  had 
but  a  week  and  don't  know  anything  about!  Don't  it 
beat  all!" 

"I'd  thank  you  not  to  pass  no  insinyations  against  my 
moral  character!"  Amanda  retorted.  "If  them  twinses 
own  mother  could  trust  'em  to  me,  I  guess  it's  nobody 
else's  business  to  come  in  here  interferin'.  I  wasn't  told, 
when  I  took  this  place,  that  I'd  be  up  against  a  bunch  like 
this,  tryin'  to  order  me  round  and  passin'  insults  at  me ! " 

"That  will  do,  Amanda,"  said  Daniel  with  dignity. 
"  Go  out  to  your  kitchen." 

Amanda  flounced  away,  as  Sadie  wheeled  the  baby-coach 
down  the  paved  garden  path  to  the  sidewalk,  followed  by 
anxious  cautions  from  Jennie  to  "go  slow"  and  not  strain 
her  back  pushing  that  heavy  coach. 

"You  poor  Danny!"  Jennie  commiserated  with  him  as 
they  together  entered  the  parlour.  "The  way  Margaret 
uses  you,  it  most  makes  me  sick!  Even  her  hired  girl 
she  teaches  to  disrespect  you !  Ain't  ?  " 

[309] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"My  life  with  Margaret  is  not  exactly  a  'flowery  bed  of 
ease,'  "  Daniel  ruefully  admitted. 

"If  only  you  hadn't  of  been  so  hasty  to  get  married 
already,  Danny !  You  could  of  done  so  much  better  than 
what  you  did!" 

"But  with  all  Margaret's  faults,"  Daniel  retorted,  his 
pride  of  possession  pricked  by  the  form  of  Jennie's  crit- 
icism, "she's  the  most  aristocratic  lady  I  ever  met." 

"Oh,  well,  but  I  don't  know  about  that  either,  Danny. 
It  seems  to  me  she  has  some  wonderful  common  ways.  I 
never  told  you  how  one  day  when  our  hired  girl  was  crying 
with  a  headache,  Margaret  went  and  put  her  arm  around 
her  yet  and  called  her  'my  dear,'  and  made  her  lay  down 
till  she  rubbed  her  head  for  her!  I  told  her  afterward, 
she  could  be  good  to  Emmy  without  making  herself  that 
common  with  her." 

"And  what  did  she  say?" 

"Och,  she  just  laughed.  You  know  how  easy  she  can 
laugh.  At  most  anything  she  can  fetch  a  silly  laugh." 

Jennie  walked  into  the  sitting-room  as  she  talked,  in- 
specting Margaret's  makeshift  arrangements  to  conceal 
the  gapes  caused  by  the  removal  of  the  furniture  which 
was  hers  and  Sadie's. 

"I'm  awful  sorry,  Danny,  that  you'll  have  the  expense 
of  new  furniture,  when  if  Margaret  had  treated  us  right, 
we  never  would  have  left  you.  And  the  very  day  you  can 
make  her  pass  her  promise  that  she'll  act  right  to  us,  we'll 
be  right  back." 

"I'll  never  get  her  to,"  Daniel  pouted.  "She's  too  glad 
you're  gone." 

[310] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"Glad!"'  echoed  Jennie,  horrified  at  the  idea  that  her 
act  of  vengeance  in  her  sudden  departure  with  her  things, 
an  act  so  fearfully  expensive  and  inconvenient  to  her  and 
Sadie,  should  be  affording  joy  to  her  enemy. 

"  She  was  working  you  all  the  time  to  get  you  to  go. 
She's  half  crazy  with  delight  at  keeping  house  by  herself. 
I  certainly  can't  get  her  to  promise  anything  that  would 
bring  you  back." 

"Oh!"  Jennie  gasped,  her  face  almost  gray  from  her 
deep  sense  of  defeat.  "But  look  how  we  took  all  the  care 
of  housekeeping  off  of  her!  And  how  it  saved  expense 
for  us  to  live  together  and " 

"  She  never  thinks  of  the  expense  of  anything! " 

"And  to  think,"  said  Jennie,  her  voice  choked,  "she 
feels  glad  to  put  you  to  all  that  exter  expense  and  she  with 
not  a  dollar  of  her  own!  Och,  Danny,  I  don't  know  how 
you  take  it  so  good-natured  off  of  her!  I  can't  bear  to 
see  you  used  so!  And  to  think  that  you'll  have  to  spend 
for  furniture  if  she  keeps  on  being  too  stubborn-headed 
to  apologize  to  us!" 

"Well,  as  to  the  furniture,  Jennie,  her  brother-in-law 
is  here,  and  I'm  going  to  have  him  ship  to  us  the  furniture 
that  belongs  to  Margaret  from  her  old  home.  It's  very 
handsome  and  expensive  furniture.  Much  more  expensive 
than  I  could  afford  to  buy.  It's  the  handsomest  furniture 
I  ever  saw." 

"  But  I  didn't  know  she  had  anything ! "  Jennie  exclaimed 
in  surprise. 

"She  has  nothing  but  a  hah*  interest  in  a  tumbledown 
old  country  place." 

[311] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"And  look  at  how  lordly  she  wants  to  act  to  you,  and 
to  us  yet,  that  have  our  own  independent  incomes!" 

They  had  reached  the  dining-room  in  their  inspection 
of  the  house,  and  Jennie  noticed  at  once  that  the  navy 
blue  owl  which  for  ten  years  had  stood  on  the  sideboard  was 
not  there. 

"Oh!"  she  cried  in  a  tragic  voice,  "is  the  owl  broke?" 

"No.     Margaret  won't  have  it  on  the  sideboard." 

"Won't  have  it  on  the  sideboard!  And  haven't  you 
something  to  say  if  that  owl  shall  stand  on  the  sideboard 
or  no?" 

"I  told  her  you  and  Sadie  wouldn't  like  it  when  you 
found  she  had  taken  it  off." 

"Danny!"  Jennie  said  in  a  sepulchral  tone,  "mebby 
she's  fooling  you:  mebby  her  dopplig  (awkward)  hired 
girl  broke  the  owl,  or  either  Margaret  broke  it  herself,  and 
is  afraid  to  tell  you.  Do  you  think  mebby?  " 

"No,  it's  up  in  the  garret.  She  told  Amanda  to  put 
it  clear  out  of  sight  in  the  garret." 

"Garret!  The  blue  owl  pitcher!  But  why  don't  she 
want  it  here?"  Jennie  demanded  in  mingled  anger  and 
wonder. 

"Margaret  don't  like  that  owl,  Jennie." 

"To  spite  you  does  she  say  she  don't  like  it  and  put  it  in 
the  garret." 

"I  told  her  I  would  miss  it.     I'm  so  used  to  it." 

"And  don't  she  care  if  you  want  it  on  the  sideboard 
setting,  Danny?" 

"She  said  she'd  save  up  and  buy  me  a  cut-glass  pitcher 
to  take  its  place." 

[312] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"Well,  to  think  you  haven't  the  dare  to  have  your  own 
owl  on  the  sideboard  setting  when  you  want  it,  Danny! 
We'll  see  once  if  you  can't!" 

She  suddenly  strode  to  the  door  leading  into  the  kitchen 
and  pulled  it  open. 

"Amanda,  go  up  to  the  garret  and  fetch  down  the  blue 
owl  pitcher  you  took  up  there." 

"When  Missus  sends  me." 

"Danny!"  Jennie  appealed  to  her  brother,  "do  you  hear 
the  impudence  she  give  me?  " 

"Amanda,"  Daniel  commanded,  stepping  to  the  door, 
"go  up  to  the  garret  and  fetch  down  that  blue  glass  pitcher 
as  my  sister  tells  you  to  do." 

"Missus  told  me  to  pack  it  away  in  the  garret  and  I 
done  it.  When  she  tells  me  to  unpack  it,  I'll  unpack  it. 
Not  till." 

"Amanda,"  said  Daniel,  looking  white  and  obstinate, 
"you'll  go  upstairs  and  bring  down  that  owl,  or  you'll 
pack  your  things  and  leave  this  house." 

"I'll  leave  this  here  house  when  Missus  sends  me!  I 
like  the  place  and  I'm  stayin'  till  I'm  fired  by  her.  Not 
till." 

"If  you're  not  out  of  here  in  half  an  hour" — Daniel 
took  out  his  watch  and  glanced  at  it — "I'll  send  for  the 
police  and  have  you  ejected." 

Amanda  glared  for  an  instant.  "Well,  my  goodness!" 
she  exclaimed  at  length,  "  to  think  of  my  gettin'  up  against 
a  common  bunch  like  this  here,  when  I  thought  (judgin* 
by  Missus)  that  I  was  gettin'  into  a  swell  family,  the  kind 
I'm  used  to!  All  right!  Suits  me  to  go.  I  never  worked 

[313] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

anyhow  at  a  house  where  they  kep'  only  one  maid.  I'm 
used  to  livin'  with  aristocrats!"  she  flung  her  parting 
shaft  as  she  cast  off  her  white  apron,  stamped  out  of  the 
kitchen  and  upstairs  to  her  room. 

"Now,"  Jennie  triumphed  as  she  and  Daniel  went  back 
to  the  sitting-room,  "when  Margaret  comes  home,  she'll 
find  out  how  nice  it  is  to  have  no  hired  girl  and  us  not  here 
to  cook,  and  her  with  company  to  supper,  and  the  babies 
over  at  our  place  where  she — can't — come!"  she  said  with  a 
cold-blooded  incisiveness.  "  Mebby,  after  all,  Danny,  she 
will  wish  she  had  us  back  here  to  keep  care  of  things  for 
her." 

"I'd  like  to  know,"  Daniel  pouted,  "why  she  stays  out 
so  long  with  Walter  Eastman!  I  came  home  early  on 
purpose  to  talk  business  with  him.  I  have  several  things 
of  importance  to  settle  up  with  him.  I  want  to  get  through 
with  it  and  see  him  off,  for  I'm  in  a  hurry  to  get  Margaret's 
furniture  here,  and  to  see  what  can  be  done  with  her  prop- 
erty down  there.  I'm  sure  /  can  make  it  worth  some- 
thing. I'll  get  Eastman's  wife  to  give  me  a  mortgage  on 
it  and  then  I'll— 

The  banging  of  the  front  door  checked  him.  "They  are 
back  at  last,"  he  said. 

"No,  it's  that  sassy  hired  girl  going,"  said  Jennie  with 
satisfaction  as  she  glanced  from  the  window  and  saw  the 
girl  departing  with  a  heavy  suit-case. 

"I  guess,"  said  Daniel,  "I'll  have  to  eat  my  supper  over 
at  your  house,  Jennie,  if  you'll  invite  me.  It  looks  as  if 
there  wouldn't  be  any  supper  here.  Or,  if  there  is,  it  will  be 
late.  And  you  know  how  I  like  to  have  my  meal  on  time." 

[3141 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"Of  course  you  do.  You  come  right  along  home  with 
me,  Danny,  and  get  your  nice,  warm  supper  at  the  time 
you're  used  to  it !  Emmy's  making  waffles  for  supper  this 
evening." 

"I'll  leave  a  note  for  Margaret,"  said  Daniel,  going  to  a 
desk  in  a  corner  of  the  room.  "She  might  be  frightened 
if  she  came  in  and  found  us  all  gone  and  no  explanation." 

"Leave  her  be  frightened;  she  needs  to  worry  about  you, 
Danny!" 

"Yes,  but  it  would  be  bad  for  Daniel  Junior's  milk  to 
have  her  get  frightened." 

Jennie  turned  away  primly.  The  frankness  of  speech 
upon  ordinarily  unmentionable  topics,  which  had  seemed 
unavoidable  since  the  advent  of  the  twins,  was  a  severe 
strain  upon  her  virgin  sense  of  propriety. 

"Come  on,  Danny,  it's  five  o'clock  and  we  eat  at  half- 
past.  I  want  for  you  to  have  your  nice,  hot  waffles  right 
off  the  stove." 

As  they  left  the  house,  Daniel  saw,  a  few  pavements 
off,  Margaret  and  Walter  coming  leisurely  toward  home, 
Margaret  talking  with  eager  animation  and  Walter  laugh- 
ing in  evidently  keen  enjoyment. 

Daniel  set  his  teeth  as  he  whirled  about  and  moved  at 
his  sister's  side  in  the  opposite  direction. 

"All  right!"  he  determined  resentfully,  looking  like  an 
angry  bantam,  "I  won't  come  home  with  the  babies  to- 
night until  I'm  good  and  ready." 


[315] 


XXVIII 

WHEN  again,  the  next  morning,  Daniel  was  obliged 
to  arise  betimes  and  start  up  the  fires,  he  felt 
a  little  regretfully  that  perhaps  he  had  been 
a  bit  hasty  in  discharging  the  capable,  if  impertinent, 
Amanda. 

"She  was  never  impertinent  to  me,"  Margaret  replied 
to  his  reason  for  sending  away  her  excellent  maid.  "And 
of  course  she  did  perfectly  right  in  refusing  to  take  orders 
from  Jennie  that  were  directly  contrary  to  mine." 

"But  from  me?" 

"But  you  say  you  told  her  she  must  obey  your  sisters 
even  when  that  meant  disobeying  me.  But  there!  I 
won't  discuss  it !  Be  sure,  however,  that  I  shall  take  steps 
to  protect  myself  against  an  interference  with  my  affairs 
that  upsets  my  household.  I  shall  instruct  my  next  maid 
that  when  Jennie  and  Sadie  appear,  she's  to  stand  by  her 
job  and  'phone  for  the  police ! " 

After  breakfast  that  morning  Daniel  decided  that  he 
would  not  depart  for  his  office  until  he  had  "had  it  out" 
with  his  brother-in-law. 

But  Walter's  ideas  as  to  the  obligations  of  hospitality 
differed  rather  widely  from  Daniel's.  As  a  guest  in  Daniel's 
house,  he  could  not  transact  the  business  he  meant  that 
day  to  put  through.  So  he  declined  emphatically  his 

[316] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

host's  invitation  to  come  with  him  to  the  sitting-room  to 
"talk  business." 

"At  your  office,  Mr.  Leitzel." 

Daniel's  insistence  that  it  suited  him  better  to  have  it 
over  right  here,  "without  any  further  procrastination," 
did  not  move  Walter  from  his  persistent  refusal  to  discuss 
their  affairs  under  this  roof.  He  felt  rather  sure  that  in 
any  business  discussion  he  might  have  with  Daniel  Leitzel 
he  would  be  tempted  to  use  language  which  a  gentleman 
cannot  use  to  his  host.  After  the  interview,  he  intended 
to  take  his  suit-case  and  go  to  the  Cocalico  Hotel. 

Arrived  at  Leitzel's  private  office  (Daniel  feeling  not  at 
all  amiable  at  being  forced  to  this  second  futile  postpone- 
ment of  the  adjustment  which  surely  Eastman  must  realize 
was  inevitable)  Walter  stretched  himself  out  lazily  in  a 
comfortable  chair  by  the  window,  lit  a  cigar,  and  waited 
complacently  for  Daniel  to  open  up  fire. 

So  Daniel,  feeling  strong  in  the  righteousness  of  his 
cause,  outlined  elaborately  his  plan  to  improve  Berkeley 
Hill  and  rent  it  for  the  benefit  of  the  joint  owners;  or,  if 
Walter  and  Harriet  preferred,  he  would  take  a  mortgage 
against  Harriet's  half  of  the  estate. 

Walter  heard  him  through  without  a  word  of  comment. 

"I  wish,"  Daniel  finally  concluded,  "to  begin  work  on 
the  place  at  once  to  make  it  marketable.  Can  you  give 
me  the  names  and  addresses  of  any  reliable  contractors 
of  Charleston?" 

"Plenty  of  them." 

"Good,"  said  Daniel,  taking  from  his  pocket  a  notebook 
and  pencil.  "Well?" 

[317] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"But  it  is  quite  useless  for  you  to  write  to  a  contractor/' 
said  Walter,  blowing  a  long  line  of  smoke  from  his  mouth : 
"first,  because  Mrs.  Eastman  would  not  consent  to  mort- 
gage away  her  half  of  Berkeley  Hill;  secondly,  neither 
Margaret  nor  my  wife  would  consent  to  such  alterations 
as  you  propose,  which  would  indeed  quite  ruin  the  place; 
thirdly,  Margaret  wishes  her  sister  to  continue  to  live  at 
Berkeley  Hill." 

The  cool  effrontery  of  this  latter  made  Daniel  stare. 

"And  you,"  he  sharply  demanded,  "wouldn't  you  feel  a 
little  more  comfortable  if  you  paid  rent  for  the  house  you 
live  in?" 

"But  why,"  smiled  Walter,  "should  my  'feeling'  in  the 
matter  interest  you  ?" 

"Bluff  and  impudence  won't  carry  you  through  when 
I'm  on  the  job,  Eastman!  You'll  have  to  come  to  terms 
or  get  into  trouble.  We'll  seize  your  wife's  half  of  the 
estate  for  back  rent,  and  then  you'll  have  nothing,  whereas 
as  I  propose  to  work  this  thing " 

"Your  methods  of  'working'  business  deals,  Leitzel,  are 
perfectly  familiar  to  me  and  I  prefer  to  have  nothing  to  do 
with  them." 

"You  prefer  to  continue  to  live  in  Margaret's  house 
without  in  any  way  compensating  her?  Well,  I  warn 
you,  I  don't  intend  to  stand  for  it.  Since  you  take  the 
stand  you  do,  I'll  make  you  pay  rent  for  the  past  year  and 
a  half!" 

"Margaret  didn't  tell  me  she  had  given  you  power  of 
attorney  over  her  property.  I  happen  to  know  that  she 
and  my  wife  have  a  perfectly  good  understanding  as  to 

[3181 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

Berkeley  Hill.     It  isn't  at  all  necessary  for  you  and  me  to 
discuss  it." 

"Oh,  yes,  it  is,  unless  you  want  me  to " 

"There  is  a  much  more  important  matter,"  Walter 
interposed,  "that  we  need  to  discuss." 

Daniel's  sharp  little  eyes  bored  into  his  like  two  gimlets. 
"Eh?  What?" 

"The  case  of  your  step-mother's  right  to  one  third  of 
her  husband's  estate." 

"What  do  you  mean? " 

"Your  wife's  conscience,  which  you  will  of  course  think 
quixotic,  but  which  I,  being  of  her  own  class  and  kind  and 
country,  quite  understand,  will  not  permit  her  to  live  on 
money  gotten  by  the  defrauding  of  a  helpless  and  ignorant 
old  woman;  nor  will  she  consent  to  her  children's  inheriting 
such  dishonest  money.  I  must  tell  you  this  morning, 
Mr.  Leitzel,  that  you  and  your  sisters  and  brother  must 
at  once  restore  to  your  step-mother  what  is  her  own,  or 
I  will  bring  suit  for  her." 

Daniel,  though  looking  white,  nevertheless  answered 
quite  steadily:  "My  step-mother  is  a  New  Mennonite; 
they  do  not  sue  at  the  law." 

"  But  get  others  to  sue  for  them." 

"Did  Margaret  send  for  you  to  come  up  North  for  this  ?  " 
Daniel  demanded,  a  steel  coldness  in  his  voice  and  look. 

"  She  did  not  send  for  me  at  all.  I  came  to  see  her  on 
quite  another  matter — connected  with  the  Berkeley  Hill 
estate." 

"Indeed?  But  she  has  given  you  these  data  which  you 
are  using  as  blackmail,  has  she,  as  to  my  father's  widow, 

[319] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

her  religion,  her  rights,  her  wrongs,  her  ignorance,  and  so 
forth?" 

"Margaret  has  not  once  mentioned  to  me  your  father's 
widow." 

"Then  what  do  you  mean?  How  do  you  know  Mar- 
garet objects  to  the  source  of  my  wealth?  And  what's 
your  authority  for  all  the  rest  of  your  bluff?  " 

"I  know  she  objects  to  the  source  of  your  wealth  be- 
cause I  know  her,  as  you,  Leitzel,  could  not  know  her  if 
you  lived  with  her  through  three  lifetimes,  since  you  are 
not,  as  I've  already  intimated,  of  her  race  or  class  or  coun- 
try. I  learned  all  the  facts — the  facts,  notice — as  to  the 
illegal  withholding  from  your  step-mother  of  her  share  of 
her  husband's  estate  entirely  through  surmise." 

"Surmise?'  You  surmised  them!  How  extraordi- 
narily perspicuous !  It's  rather  surprising  so  sharp  a  law- 
yer has  not  made  more  of  a  success  of  himself,  eh?  " 

"Your  idea  of  success  and  mine  would  differ  as  widely  as 
does  your  understanding  and  mine  of  your  wife.  To  get 
down  to  business,  Mr.  Leitzel,  you  must  at  once  restore 
to  your  step-mother  her  share  in  her  husband's  estate,  or 
we  bring  suit." 

"'We?'    Who?" 

"I,  for  the  old  woman." 

"And  what,"  Daniel  asked,  his  lips  stiff,  "do  you  think 
you  are  going  to  get  out  of  this?  " 

"A  reasonable  fee." 

"Margaret  authorizes  you  to  say  all  this  to  me?" 

"  She  doesn't  know  I'm  saying  it.  Has  no  least  idea  I 
meant  to  say  it." 

[3201 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"Oh,  so  you  are  acting  independently,  as  a  counter- 
stroke  to  save  yourself  from  being  forced  to  pay  rent  for 
the  good  home  you  and  your  family  enjoy?  " 

"I  am  acting  independently  of  Margaret  anyway," 
returned  Walter,  quite  unruffled. 

"  Margaret  will  forbid  it ! " 

"  If  I  were  not  taking  up  this  case  with  you  this  morn- 
ing, Leitzel,  Margaret  would  herself,  I  am  confident,  put 
it  into  the  hands  of  another  lawyer,  who  might  not  be  so 
interested  as  I  am  in  keeping  it  out  of  the  newspapers. 
Margaret  would  probably  bungle  the  thing  and  get  herself 
into  a  mess  of  trouble,  so  I've  decided  I'd  better  do  it  for 
her  and  do  it  with  a  minimum  of  fuss  and  worry  for  her." 

"  She  has  told  you  she  was  going  to  put  it  into  a  lawyer's 
hands?" 

"She  has  told  me  nothing;  at  least  she  thinks  she  has 
told  me  nothing." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that — that  she  thinks  she  has 
told  you  nothing?" 

'*  I've  said  that  I've  surmised  the  facts  I  hold." 

"Well,  your  'surmises'  are  all  wrong!  Margaret  would 
not  set  a  lawyer  to  bringing  suit  against  me!  She's  not 
quite  a  fool!  She  wouldn't  deliberately  disgrace  the 
father  of  her  children ! " 

"She  would  consider,  rather,  her  children's  shame  in 
inheriting  tainted  money." 

"I'll  have  her  down  here"— Daniel  rose  suddenly, 
though  his  knees  shook  under  him — "and  put  it  to  her, 
and  you'll  see  whether  she  is  loyal  to  her  husband  or  not ! " 

"  Wait ! "  Walter  checked  him.  "  You  will  have  her  here 
[3211 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

of  course  if  you  like,  but  don't  you  think  she's  been  sub- 
jected to  about  enough  unpleasantness  and  nervous  strain 
since  yesterday  afternoon?  I  can  give  you  the  answer 
she'd  have  for  you:  you  will  restore  to  your  step-mother 
her  third,  or  she  will  first  institute  a  suit  to  make  you  do 
it  and  then  (as  so  drastic  a  measure  as  that  will  make  your 
living  together  rather  unendurable)  she  will  come  home  to 
Charleston  with  me." 

"And  the  twins?" 

"Would  of  course  come  with  her." 

"And  you'd  support  them?"  sneered  Daniel. 

"Margaret  would  be  amply  able  to  support  them.  She 
wanted  to  postpone  telling  you  what  it  was  that  brought 
me  North  to  see  her  just  at  this  time,  but  I  persuaded  her 
this  morning  to  let  me  tell  you  at  once.  It  was  this:  a 
later  will  of  her  Uncle  Osmond's  has  been  found,  in  a  volume 
of  Kant's  'Critique,'  giving  Margaret  an  annual  income 
of  five  thousand  dollars.  As  the  trustees  of  the  estate 
had  not  yet  begun  the  work  of  founding  their  free-thought 
college,  the  matter  was  easily  adjusted.  Uncle  Osmond's 
change  of  heart,  he  states  in  a  note,  was  brought  about 
by  a  talk  he  had  with  Margaret  one  night  in  which  he 
discussed  his  will  with  her  and  she  pointed  out  to  him  that 
having  given  to  him  those  years  of  her  life  in  which  a  girl 
might  prepare  herself  for  a  career,  or  at  least  for  self- 
support,  she  would,  if  he  left  her  dowerless,  be  stranded 
high  and  dry.  So  the  old  curmudgeon  drew  up  a  new  will 
giving  her  a  comfortable  income,  had  it  witnessed  by  two 
psychologists  from  two  Western  universities  who  called 
on  him  one  day,  stuck  it  into  a  damned  old  work  on  philos- 

[322] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

ophy  that  no  one  would  ever  dream  of  looking  into  except 
by  accident,  and  so  two  years  and  a  half  passed  by  before 
it  was  discovered." 

Under  the  double  shock  of  being  threatened  in  one 
moment  with  a  lawsuit  that  would  rob  him  and  his  sisters 
and  brother  of  a  large  part  of  their  income  from  their  coal 
lands,  and  in  the  next  moment  learning  the  joyful  news 
that  his  wife  was  heiress  to  an  annual  income  of  five  thou- 
sand dollars,  Daniel  felt  weak,  almost  helpless. 

He  rallied  after  a  few  moments  sufficiently  to  suggest 
feebly  that  he  would  compromise  in  the  case  of  his  step- 
mother: give  her  a  comfortable  income  for  the  rest  of  her 
life. 

"For  you  see,"  he  reasoned,  "after  all,  the  land  was  my 
own  mother's,  and  my  step-mother  has  no  moral  right  to 
it." 

"No  use  for  you  and  me  to  discuss  the  moral  values  of 
anything,  Leitzel,"  said  Walter;  "our  points  of  view,  as 
I've  said  before,  being  too  widely  different.  So  we'll  stick 
to  the  legal  aspect,  please." 

"Well,  then,  look  at  the  matter  practically.  My  step- 
mother would  have  no  use  for  the  large  income  she  would 
receive  from  one  third  of  the  estate.  Her  needs  are  too 
simple.  It  would  simply  be  wasted." 

"That's  a  question  for  her,  not  for  her  lawyer.  The 
more  she  has,  the  better  her  sons  and  daughters  will  treat 
her,  I  guess,  human  nature  being  what  it  is!" 

"What's  more,"  argued  Daniel,  "she'd  be  under  the 
necessity  of  making  a  will,  and  at  her  time  of  life  and  in 
her  state  of  health,  that  would  worry  and  tax  her,  and 

[323] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

quite  unnecessarily.  I  can  settle  a  nice  income  upon  her 
that  will  more  than  cover  all  her  simple,  modest  needs." 

"And  hold  it  over  her  constantly  that  she  is  beholden 
to  your  generosity!  Your  tender  consideration  that  she 
shall  not  be  worried  with  the  making  of  a  will  does  credit 
to  your  heart !  But  you've  let  her  be  worried  for  the  past 
decade  with  impending  starvation  or  the  poorhouse!" 

"And  you  want  to  tell  me,"  Daniel  burst  out,  "that 
Margaret  hasn't  talked  to  you ! " 

"Of  'a  friend'  of  hers  'out  West.'  Of  course  I  saw  right 
through  that." 

"So  that,"  said  Daniel  bitterly,  "was  what  that  long 
letter  was  about  that  I  saw  her  writing  to  you  one  night, 
when  she  threw  dust  in  my  eyes  by  saying  she  had  'a 
little  surprise'  for  me  up  her  sleeve ! " 

"Aha!"  laughed  Walter.  "Margaret  always  was 
cute!" 

"'Cute!'  You  call  it  'cute,'  to  be  underhanded  with 
her  own  husband;  to  plot  to  rob  her  own  children  of  a 
large  part  of  their  inheritance;  to  act  in  every  possible 
way  she  can  devise  against  my  interests  and  those  of  my 
family!  And  don't  you  see,"  he  tackled  another  line  of 
argument,  "that  it  will  be  extremely  difficult  to  avert 
a  public  scandal  if  we  actually  make  over  to  my  step- 
mother all  this  money?  Whereas  a  compromise — 

"The  only  rule  I  know  for  averting  scandals,"  said 
Walter,  "is  to  live  honestly.  Yes,  it  may  cause  comment, 
but  not  so  much  as  a  lawsuit  would  cause." 

"You  won't  consider  a  compromise?" 

"Not  for  an  instant.  Except  this,"  Walter  added, 
[3241 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

lifting  his  hand;  "we  will  waive  a  claim  for  the  accrued 
profits  of  past  years." 

There  was  a  long  silence  between  them,  Daniel  ner- 
vously tapping  his  foot  on  the  fender  before  which  he 
sat,  and  Walter  lounging  back  in  his  chair,  looking  so  lazy 
and  indifferent,  it  was  difficult  for  Daniel  to  believe  that 
this  man  held  in  his  hands  the  power  to  force  a  man  like 
himself,  rich,  influential,  secure,  to  give  up  a  large  part  of 
his  annual  income. 

Well,  there  seemed  to  be  no  use  in  prolonging  the  pres- 
ent interview;  Daniel  rose  slowly  to  bring  it  to  an  end. 

"There  seems  nothing  more  to  be  said,  Mr.  Eastman." 

"  But  I  must  see  this  thing  through,  Mr.  Leitzel,  before 
I  return  to  the  South,  and  I've  got  to  return  soon,  so 
you  must  let  me  have  my  answer  not  later  than  to-morrow. 
That  will  give  you  time  to  see  your  brother  and  sisters." 

"Also  time  to  see  my  step-mother,  who,  I  happen  to 
know,  will  not  permit  you  to  bring  suit.  She  will  consent 
to  a  compromise,  and  an  easy  one." 

"  You  think  so? "  Walter  smiled  confidently,  though  on 
this  point  he  did  not  feel  confident.  "But  whatever  your 
step-mother  may  consent  to,  your  wife  will  not  consent  to 
a  compromise.  She  hasn't  the  sort  of  conscience  that 
compromises.  And  she  considers  this  her  concern  and 
her  children's.  I  am  quite  sure  that  if  you  don't  make  full 
restitution  to  your  step-mother,  Margaret  will  go  home 
with  me,  which,  from  what  I  have  witnessed  of  her  life 
here,  I  think  may  be  the  best  thing  she  can  do." 

"Her  life  here,"  said  Daniel  coldly,  "is  none  of  your 
business." 

[325] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

He  turned  away  abruptly,  as  though  unable  to  bear 
more,  and  walked  quickly  from  the  room. 

"And  from  beginning  to  end,"  said  Walter  to  himself 
as  he  yawned  and  stretched  himself,  "I  was  guessing! 
Wasn't  absolutely  sure  that  the  case  was  Leitzel's  step- 
mother's! W^ell,"  he  concluded  as  he  rose  lazily  and 
strolled  out  of  the  building,  "I'm  enjoying  my  visit  up 
here  quite  a  lot!" 

But  as  he  went  through  the  streets  to  the  Cocalico 
Hotel,  his  face  was  very  sober. 

"To  think  of  a  woman  like  Margaret  being  tied  up  for 
life  to  a  little  spider  like  that!  Why  didn't  I  see  it  when 
he  came  a-courting  her!  Ah,  well,"  he  drew  a  long 
breath,  "I'll  do  my  darndest  to  make  it  up  to  her!  I'll 
see  the  poor  old  Leitzel  woman  myself  this  morning, 
and  I'll  get  in  my  good  strokes  there  before  Dan  Leitzel 
gets  near  her." 


[326] 


XXIX 

AMN  New  Munich  was  shaken  to  its  foundations 
by  another  startling  episode  in  the  chronicles  of 
the  Leitzels — the  resurrection,  as  it  were,  of  their 
New  Mennonite  step-mother,  who  took  up  her  residence 
in  a  pretty  little  old  stone  house  a  few  doors  from  Daniel's 
gaudy  mansion;  the  most  expensive  location  in  the  town, 
with  the  trained  nurse,  who  had  taken  care  of  Mrs.  Danny 
Leitzel  when  the  twins  were  born,  established  in  charge  of 
the  old  woman's  cozy  small  home,  as  her  companion  and 
housekeeper. 

"What  would  we  do  without  you  Leitzels  to  keep  us 
interested,  not  to  say  excited?"  Mrs.  Ocksreider  remarked 
to  Margaret  one  d#y  when  she  met  her  on  the  street.  "/ 
never  knew  they  had  a  step-mother." 

"She  has  always  lived  out  in  the  country  at  their  old 
home,"  said  Margaret,  "but  we  all  thought  she  ought  to 
be  nearer  to  us  now  that  she  is  getting  so  feeble  and  help- 
less; so  we  brought  her  in  town." 

"  You  mean  you  brought  her  in?  " 

"Mr.  Leitzel  and  I,  of  course." 

"Did  she  tell  you  I  had  called  on  her?"  Mrs.  Ocksreider 
inquired  rather  defiantly,  not  wholly  free  from  an  uncom- 
fortable sense  of  embarrassment  at  the  blatant  curiosity 
that  had  taken  her  there. 

[327] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"No,  but  I  saw  your  card  there  with  a  number  of 
others,"  said  Margaret. 

"You  are  with  the  old  lady  a  great  deal,  aren't  you?  It 
is  so  nice  of  you !" 

"  I  am  very  fond  of  Mrs.  Leitzel,"  Margaret  replied. 

"Well,  she  is  a  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Ocksreider  heartily; 
"one  of  the  sweetest  little  women  I  ever  met.  How  pret- 
tily and  cozily  you  have  fixed  up  her  house !  She  told  me 
you  had  done  it  all ! " 

"I  did  enjoy  getting  her  settled  near  me,"  Margaret 
smiled.  "She's  the  greatest  comfort  and  blessing  to  me 
— to  any  one  who  has  the  good  fortune  to  come  into  con- 
tact with  her.  I  have  known  few  people  in  my  life  so 
guileless,  so  kindly  disposed  toward  every  one !  The  world 
needs  more  of  such  souls,  doesn't  it,  as  a  little  leaven  in 
the  hardness  and  sordidness  all  about  us?" 

"Indeed  we  do!"  Mrs.  Ocksreider  piously  agreed. 
"And  the  dear  old  lady  is  equally  fond  of  you,  my  dear," 
she  assured  Margaret,  patting  her  arm.  "  She  seems  so 
grateful  to  you,"  she  added,  putting  out  a  feeler. 

"Yes?"  said  Margaret  noncommittally. 

"I  see  Miss  Jennie  and  Miss  Sadie  going  in  to  see  her 
very  often,  too,"  said  Mrs.  Ocksreider  tentatively. 

"Oh,  yes,  every  day.  They  are  very  attentive  to  their 
mother,"  Margaret  replied  quite  soberly. 

"Are  they  so  fond  of  her,  too?"  Mrs.  Ocksreider  asked, 
curiosity  fairly  radiating  from  her  ample  countenance. 
"I  had  never  in  all  these  years  of  my  acquaintance  with 
them  heard  them  so  much  as  refer  to  their  step-mother." 

"But  you  were  never  more  than  very  formally  ac- 
[328] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

quainted  with  them,"  Margaret  returned  in  a  tone  of  dis- 
missing the  discussion.  "Has  Miss  Ocksreider  got  back 
from  New  York?" 

"No,  I  expect  her  to-night.  Come  in  to  see  her,  Mrs. 
Leitzel — she  adores  you!  And  so  few  of  us  see  anything 
of  you  at  all  since  your  babies  came.  You  don't  go  any- 
where any  more,  do  you?  Society  certainly  does  miss 
you." 

"You  are  very  kind  to  say  that.  I  am  very  much  tied 
down,  of  course." 

"  If  you  could  get  a  good,  capable  nurse,"  suggested  Mrs. 
Ocksreider,  again  tentatively.  Margaret  did  not  know 
that  the  town  was  agog  at  the  fact,  that,  rich  as  Danny 
Leitzel  was,  his  wife  kept  no  child's  nurse  for  her  babies. 

"I  am  trying  to  get  one,  Mrs.  Ocksreider." 

"If  I  hear  of  one,  I'll  send  her  to  you.  Of  course  you 
were  at  the  luncheon  yesterday,  however?  Every  one  was 
at  that" 

"What  luncheon?"  asked  Margaret  vaguely. 

"  What  luncheon  ?  She  asks  what  luncheon ! "  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Ocksreider,  casting  up  her  eyes  in  horror.  "The 
Missionary  Jubilee  Luncheon  of  course! " 

"Oh!"  cried  Margaret,  blushing,  for  this  Missionary 
Jubilee  Luncheon  had  been  an  orgy  of  religious  sentimen- 
tality in  which  the  entire  town  had  united  and  nothing 
else  had  been  talked  of  for  weeks.  "I  had  forgotten  all 
about  it.  I  wasn't  out  of  the  house  yesterday,"  she  added 
apologetically. 

"But  didn't  Miss  Jennie  and  Miss  Sadie  tell  you?  I 
remember  seeing  them  in  the  throngs." 

[329] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"They  didn't  speak  of  it,"  replied  Margaret,  not  adding 
the  information  for  which  Mrs.  Ocksreider  yearned,  that 
they  did  not,  these  days,  tell  her  anything,  since  they  "did 
not  speak  as  they  passed  by." 

"But  Mrs.  Leitzel,"  pursued  Mrs.  Ocksreider,  "how 
could  you  'forget'  a  thing  like  our  Missionary  Jubilee, 
unless  you  were  deaf,  dumb,  and  blind?" 

"Miss  Hamilton  never  spoke  of  it  to  me,  and  I  don't  see 
many  other  people.  The  truth  is,"  Margaret  owned  up, 
"she  and  I  were  not  specially  interested  in  it." 

"Oh!     Why  not?" 

"Well,  I'm  inclined  to  think  that  the  so-called  'heathen' 
religions  are,  in  most  cases,  as  good  as,  or  better  than,  the 
substitute  offered  by  the  half -educated  missionaries." 

"'Half -educated!'  Oh,  but  our  missionaries  are  not 
half -educated,  Mrs.  Leitzel!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Ocksreider, 
shocked.  "Do  you  know,  sometimes  I  think  you  are  not 
religious!  And  one  of  the  women  missionaries  said  yes- 
terday that  a  woman  without  religion  was  like  a  flower 
without  fragrance,  or  a  landscape  without  atmosphere." 

"Epigrammatic,"  nodded  Margaret,  undisturbed.  "I 
doubt  whether  she  thought  that  up  herself." 

"Oh,  but  she  was  a  beautiful  speaker!  I  only  just  wish 
you  had  heard  her!  You  believe  at  least  in  a  Supreme 
Being,  don't  you,  Mrs.  Leitzel?  " 

The  absurdity  of  such  discussion  on  the  sidewalk  was 
too  much  for  Margaret's  gravity  and  she  helplessly  laughed. 
But  Mrs.  Ocksreider  looked  so  grieved  over  her  that  she 
sobered  up  and  answered,  "I  hope  I  have  a  religion." 

"What  is  your  religion,  Mrs.  Leitzel?" 
[330] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"Well,  I  have  ideals.     Any  one  with  ideals  is  religious." 

"  Is  that  all  the  religion  you  have?  " 

"It's  more  than  I  can  manage  to  live  up  to,  and  we'd 
better  not  have  very  much  more  religion  than  we  can  live 
out,  do  you  think  so?  " 

This  was  rather  too  deep  water  for  Mrs.  Ocksreider  and 
she  changed  the  subject.  "Oh,  well,  every  one  has  to 
settle  these  questions  her  own  way.  I  should  think,"  she 
quickly  added,  evidently  not  willing  to  miss  her  chance  of 
clearing  up  a  matter  that  was  in  her  mind,  "that  Miss 
Jennie  and  Miss  Sadie  would  be  rather  jealous  of  their 
mother's  devotion  to  you.  She  talks  so  much  of  you  and 
she  never  speaks  of  them." 

"I'm  new,  you  see,"  said  Margaret,  starting  to  move  on 
as  she  felt  the  ice  getting  thin.  How  these  New  Munich 
women  could  pry!  "Good-bye,"  she  nodded  as  she  hur- 
ried away  before  she  could  be  further  sounded. 

"  I  don't  wonder,  though,"  she  thought  on  her  way  home, 
"  that  people  are  curious  and  suspicious.  How  Jennie  and 
Sadie  can  have  the  face,  after  years  of  cruel  neglect  of 
their  mother,  to  lavish  upon  her,  now  that  she  has  a  for- 
tune to  will  away,  such  obsequious  and  constant  atten- 
tion and  devotion — oh,  it's  nauseating!  And  their 
mother  isn't  a  fool;  she  is  not  taken  in  by  it  for  one  minute, 
I  can  see  that." 

It  was  only  that  morning  that,  when  she  had  run  in  to 
see  Mrs.  Leitzel  for  a  minute,  she  had  found  her  just  con- 
cluding a  strictly  private  interview  with  her  New  Men- 
nonite  preacher  and  a  young  lawyer  of  the  town  whom 
Margaret  knew  by  sight. 

[331] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"Don't  tell  Danny  what  you  seen  here,  my  dear,  will 
you?"  the  old  woman  nervously  asked  when  they  were 
alone.  "Danny  would  take  it  hard  that  I  got  another 
lawyer  to  tend  to  my  business.  But  you  see,  Margaret, 
I  have  afraid  Danny  would  lawyer  my  money  all  off  of 
me  if  he  got  at  it." 

"I'll  not  say  a  word  to  him,"  Margaret  had  reassured 
her. 

"Jennie  and  Sadie,  and  Hiram  when  he  comes  to  see  me, 
now,  once  a  week,  worries  me  so  to  make  my  will,"  she 
continued  in  a  distressed  voice.  "Hiram  he  tells  me 
Danny's  got  so  much  more'n  what  he  has  and  you  got 
more'n  what  his  Lizzie  has,  so  I  had  ought  to  leave  what 
I  got  to  his  children.  And  Jennie  and  Sadie  says  they 
can't  hardly  get  along  since  they  had  to  give  up  so  much 
to  me  and  I  had  ought  to  leave  it  to  them  when  I  die, 
because  Danny's  got  a-plenty  to  do  with  a'ready  and  a 
rich  wife  yet,  and  Hiram  lives  so  tight  he  don't  need  more'n 
what  he's  got.  'And,  anyway,'  Jennie  says  to  me,  'of 
course  I  and  Sadie  would  will  all  we  had  to  Danny's  and 
Hiram's  children.  You  could  even  make  your  will  so's 
we'd  have  to,  Mom.'  And  then  Danny  he  comes  in  and 
he  says,  'You  know,  mother,  it  was  my  wife  that  has  been 
so  kind  and  generous  to  you,  persuading  us  all  that  even 
if  the  coal  lands  did  belong,  in  the  first  place,  to  my  own 
mother,  we  ought  to  give  you  your  share.  It  was  Margaret 
that  wouldn't  leave  us  put  you  in  a  home,  where  Hiram 
and  Jennie  and  Sadie  were  all  for  puttin'  you.  And  I 
listened  on  Margaret,  mother,  and  wouldn't  do  it;  so  I 
don't  think  it  would  be  more'n  right  for  you  to  leave  your 

[332] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

share  of  my  mother's  estate  to  me,  seeing  that  it  was 
through  my  wife  that  you  got  any  of  it.'  Well,  Margaret, 
they  all  kep'  worryin'  me  so  that  now  to-day  I  did  make 
my  will  oncet.  Now  I  can  say  to  'em  when  they  ast  me 
about  it,  that  my  will  is  made  a'ready." 

"It  is  too  bad  that  you  should  be  worried  about  it  so!" 
said  Margaret  sympathetically. 

"Even  Hiram's  Lizzie  comes  to  see  me  and  asks  me 
about  my  will,  for  all  I  think  it's  Hiram  puts  her  up  to  it; 
she  don't  want  to  do  it.  I  took  notice  a'ready,  my  dear, 
you  are  the  only  one  of  'em  all  that  never  spoke  nothin' 
to  me  yet  how  I  was  a-goin'  to  will  away  my  money." 

"We  have  more  interesting  things  to  talk  about,  haven't 
we?  I've  run  in  this  morning  to  tell  you  that  Mary  Louise 
has  beat  Sonny  cutting  teeth — she  has  two,  and  he  hasn't 
one,  the  lazy  fellow!  I'll  wager,  grossmutter,  she'll  keep 
ahead  of  him  straight  through  life!" 

"But  Sonny's  anyhow  fatter 'n  sister,"  maintained  the 
proud  grandmother,  between  whom  and  Margaret  there  was 
kept  up  a  constant  play  of  favouritism  as  to  the  babies. 

"Jennie  says  I'm  letting  Sonny  get  too  fat  and  that 
it's  dreadfully  unwholesome." 

"  Sonny  ain't  too  fat! "  the  jealous  grandmother  retorted 
indignantly;  "he's  wery  neat /" 

"If  he  would  only  draw  the  line  at  being  'neat,'  but 
he's  getting  a  tummy  like  an  alderman's!"  Margaret 
anxiously  declared. 

They  laughed  together  over  the  joke  and  the  old  woman 
looked  up  fondly  into  the  bright,  sweet  face  at  her  side. 

"You  always  cheer  me  up,  dearie,  when  you  come. 
[333] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

The  others  never  talk  to  me  about  nothin'  except  how  I'm 
a-goin'  to  make  my  will,  and  how  I'm  spendin'  so  much  of 
my  income,  and  how  extravagant  you  fitted  up  this  house 
for  me  with  money  that  was  rightly  tlieirn;  and  oh,  my 
dear,  I  got  so  tired  of  hearin'  about  the  money  off  of  'em ! 
The  only  other  thing  they  ever  want  to  talk  about 

She  stopped  short  and  closed  her  lips. 

"Is  the  wicked,  designing  Jezebel  that  Danny  has  for  a 
wife !  Oh,  yes,  I  know.  It's  too  bad,  my  dear,  that  they 
should  fret  you  so!  But  perhaps  now  that  you  can  tell 
them  your  will  is  made,  they'll  stop  teasing  you.  I'm 
going  to  bring  the  babies  in  to  see  you  this  afternoon. 
I  must  run  along  now;  I  have  to  go  downtown  and  get 
Sonny  some  new  booties;  he  chewed  up  the  last  pair  and 
they  didn't  agree  with  him." 

Again  the  old  woman  laughed  delightedly.  Margaret 
could  not  realize  what  a  refreshment  and  comfort  she  was 
to  her. 

"But  before  you  go,  Margaret,  I  want  to  ast  you  what 
Hiram  means  by  this  here  postal  card  I  got  off  of  him  this 
morning  in  the  mail." 

Margaret  took  the  card  offered  to  her  and  read: 

"D.  V.  will  come  to  see  you  Saturday  to  read  the  Scriptures 
with  you  and  have  prayer  with  you. 

"In  haste,  your  affectionate  son, 
"REV.  HIRAM  LEITZEL.' 

"I  don't  know  who  this  D.  V.  is  that's  coming,"  said 
Mrs.  Leitzel  anxiously.  "Do  you,  my  dear?  And  I 

[3341 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

haven't  the  dare  to  hear  religious  services  with  a  world's 
preacher;  it's  against  the  rules  of  meeting." 

"D.  V.'  stands  for  two  Latin  words,  'Deo  vohnte'  'God 
willing.'  Hiram  means  he  will  be  here,  God  willing.  I 
hope  for  your  sake,  God  won't  be  willing!" 

"Oh,  but  ain't  you  and  Hiram  got  the  grand  education!" 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Leitzel  admiringly.  "Well,  if  he  does 
come,  I  can't  leave  him  have  no  religious  services  with  me. 
Us  New  Mennonites,  you  know,  we  darsent  listen  to  no 
other  preachers  but  our  own,  though  I  often  did  wish 
a'ready  I  could  hear  one  of  Hiram's  grand  sermons.  They 
do  say  he  can  stand  on  the  pulpit  just  elegant!" 

Margaret  kissed  her,  without  comment  upon  Hiram's 
greatness  as  a  preacher,  and  came  away. 

She  was  sincerely  sorry  that  Daniel's  sisters  must,  in 
the  nature  of  things,  continue  to  regard  her  with  bitter 
antagonism.  She  could  have  borne  it  with  perfect  res- 
ignation if  circumstances  had  not  constantly  brought  them 
together,  for  Jennie  and  Sadie  came  almost  daily  to  her 
home  to  see  after  their  brother's  little  comforts  and  to 
fondle  his  precious  babies  for  an  hour,  though  they  never 
in  their  visits  deigned  to  recognize  Margaret's  existence. 
They  would  sail  past  her  in  her  own  front  hall,  without 
speaking  to  her,  and  go  straight  to  the  nursery,  or  to 
Daniel  in  his  "den." 

Having  been  the  means  of  depriving  them  of  some  of 
their  income,  she  was  unwilling  to  take  from  them,  also, 
the  pleasure  they  had  in  the  babies;  so  beyond  a  mild 
suggestion  to  Daniel  that  he  might  tell  them  they  must 
treat  her  with  decent  courtesy  in  her  own  home,  or  else 

[335] 


HER  HUSBAND  S  PURSE 

stay  away  from  it,  she  did  not  interfere  with  their  visits, 
though  she  tried  to  keep  out  of  their  way  when  they  did 
come. 

Daniel,  on  his  part,  was  aghast  at  the  bare  suggestion 
of  further  endangering  his  children's  inheritance  by  telling 
his  sisters  they  must  be  civil  to  his  wife  in  her  own  home 
or  stay  away.  He  considered  Margaret's  sense  of  values 
to  be  hopelessly  distorted. 

It  was  not  surprising  that  Margaret  and  old  Mrs. 
Leitzel  turned  with  infinite  relief  from  the  society  of  the 
rest  of  the  Leitzels  to  find  in  each  other  an  escape  from  a 
materialism  as  deadly  to  the  soul's  true  life  as  ashes  to  the 
palate.  It  was  of  the  babies  they  talked  mainly:  of  their 
cunning  ways;  of  Margaret's  plans  and  ambitions  for 
them;  of  the  new  clothes  she  was  making  for  them;  of 
Daniel's  devotion  to  and  pride  in  them. 

Mrs.  Leitzel  also  heard  with  delighted  interest  Mar- 
garet's anecdotes  of  her  sister's  children :  how  little  Walter 
had  called  up  the  family  doctor  on  the  telephone  to  ask 
whether  when  you  got  chicken-pox  you  got  feathers,  and 
the  doctor  had  said,  "Not  only  feathers,  but  you  crow 
every  morning,"  and  now  little  Walter  prayed  every  night 
that  he  might  soon  have  chicken-pox;  also,  how  three-year- 
old  Margaret,  after  an  operation  for  a  swollen  gland  in  her 
neck,  had  informed  some  visitors,  "I  had  an  operation 
on  my  neck  and  the  doctors  cut  it  out." 

Mrs.  Leitzel,  in  her  turn,  would  relate  to  her  by  the 
hour  anecdotes  of  her  past  life,  some  of  which  proved  very 
illuminating  to  Margaret  as  to  the  Leitzel  characteristics, 
and  gave  her  much  food  for  thought. 

[336] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"  I  used  to  have  so  afraid  to  be  all  alone — I  can't  tell  you 
what  it  is  to  me  to  feel  so  safe  like  what  I  do  now,  with  this 
here  kind  Miss  Wenreich  takin'  care  of  me;  and  not  bein' 
afraid  to  take  a  second  cup  of  tea  when  I  feel  fur  it;  be- 
cause now  when  my  tea  is  all,  I  kin  buy  more;  and  havin* 
no  fear  of  freezin'  to  death  if  my  wood  gets  all  fur  me  and 
I  not  able  to  go  out  and  chop  more;  and  not  being  forced 
any  more  to  eat  only  just  what  would  keep  me  alive.  To 
have  now  full  and  plenty  and  to  feel  safe  and  at  peace — 
and  to  have  you  to  love  me !  And  the  dear  babies ! 

"One  day,  my  dear,  sich  a  sharper  come  to  my  house 
out  there  in  the  country  and  he  says,  'Where's  your  hus- 
band at?  '  Well,  he  looked  so  wicked  (fur  all,  he  was  nice 
dressed)  that  I  didn't  say  to  him,  '  I'm  a  widow,  my  hus- 
band ain't  livin'!'  I  had  so  afraid  if  he  knowed  I  was 
alone,  he  might  do  me  somepin.  So  I  sayed,  'You  kin 
tell  me  your  business,  I'm  the  same  as  Mister.'  '  You  run 
things  and  handle  the  money,  do  you? '  he  ast  me.  '  Well, 
then,  I  want  you  to  give  some  fur  to  buy  Bibles  fur  the 
poor.'  I  said  I  didn't  have  no  money  to  spare,  but  I 
had  an  exter  Bible  I  could  give  him.  I  knowed  well 
enough  he  was  a  sharper,  but  I  thought  mebby  my  old 
Bible  might  do  him  some  good.  So  I  offered  it  to  him. 
But  he  said  the  Lord  didn't  want  no  second-hand  stuff  fur 
His  poor.  'You're  not  a  Christian,'  he  said,  'if  you  won't 
give  any  to  buy  new  Bibles  fur  the  poor.'  And  Margaret, 
he  looked  so  ugly,  I  had  so  afraid  of  him,  I  shook  all  over; 
but  I  purtended  to  call  Mister,  and  him  dead  near  twenty 
years.  Well,  but  at  that,  the  sharper  took  hisself  off! 
Goodness  knows  what  he  might  of  done  at  me  if  I  hadn't  of 

[337] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

purtended  to  call  Mister!  Ain't?  Well,"  she  drew  a 
long  sigh,  "them  worryin'  days  is  all  over  now,  thanks  to 
you,  my  dear.  It's  as  Danny  says:  I'd  be  in  the  poor- 
house  if  it  hadn't  of  been  fur  you." 

Margaret  often  marvelled,  as  she  found  herself  deriving 
the  keenest  pleasure  from  old  Mrs.  Leitzel's  happiness 
and  deep  content,  how  the  Leitzels  could  so  blindly  miss, 
in  their  selfish  materialism,  the  true  sources  of  joy  in  life. 


[338 


XXX 

WHEN  a  year  after  she  had  moved  into  town  old 
Mrs. Leitzel  died,  itwas  Margaret's  private  con- 
viction that  the  Leitzels  had  worried  her  to  death 
trying  to  find  out  how  she  had  made  her  will.     It  is  said 
that  people  of  mild  temper  are  usually  obstinate,  and  the 
fact  stands  that  no  one  of  them  ever  succeeded  in  getting 
from  the  old  woman  the  least  hint  as  to  the  disposition 
she  had  made  of  her  large  property. 

"  She  would  tell  you"  Daniel  used  to  urge  Margaret  to 
find  out  the  coveted  secret. 

"But  I  don't  care  to  know." 

"I  do.     Find  out  for  me." 

"Not  for  any  consideration  on  earth  or  in  heaven,  my 
dear,  would  I  lift  my  finger  about  a  matter  which  is  so 
absolutely  Mrs.  LeitzePs  own  private  and  personal  con- 
cern and  no  one  else's." 

The  suspense  and  impatience  with  which,  after  her 
death,  they  awaited  the  reading  of  the  will,  seemed  to  let 
loose  every  primitive  animal  instinct  of  coveteousness,  and 
scarcely  could  they  restrain,  within  decent  bounds,  their 
fierce  suspicions  of  each  other  and  their  hawklike  greed 
for  the  prey  at  stake. 

When  it  was  found  that  after  a  bequest  to  the  New 
Mennonite  denomination,  and  one  to  the  nurse,  Miss 

[  339  ] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

Wenreich,  the  entire  remainder  of  the  fortune  of  the  de- 
ceased was  left  unconditionally  to  Margaret,  the  sensa- 
tions and  sentiments  of  the  Leitzels  were  dynamic.  Even 
Daniel  was  more  chagrined  than  pleased.  An  economi- 
cally independent  wife,  he  had  already  found,  was  not  the 
sort  of  whom  Petruchio  (who  expressed  Daniel's  idea  ex- 
actly) could  have  said : 

"I  will  be  master  of  what  is  mine  own: 

She  is  my  goods,  my  chattels;  she  is  my  house, 

My  household  stuff,  my  field,  my  barn, 

My  horse,  my  ox,  my  ass,  my  anything; 

And  here  she  stands,  touch  her  whoever  dares." 

One  couldn't  maintain  the  Petruchio  attitude,  which 
was  certainly  the  true  and  orderly  one,  toward  a  wife 
who  had  a  large  income  of  her  own  and  was  strangely 
lacking  in  a  proper  respect  for  her  husband. 

It  was  not  until  Daniel  discovered  that  Margaret  had 
scruples  about  accepting  the  money  that  he  found  him- 
self as  fearful  lest  it  should  pass  out  of  his  family  into  the 
hands  of  strangers  as  he  had  hitherto  been  eager  to  get  it 
into  his  own  hands.  The  pious  and  solemn  arguments 
he  employed  to  convince  her  of  her  duty  in  the  matter, 
far  from  having  any  weight  with  her,  rather  confirmed  her 
in  her  feeling  that,  having  forced  the  Leitzels  to  give  up  a 
third  of  their  possessions  to  their  step-mother,  it  put  her 
too  much  in  the  light  of  a  self-interested  plotter  to  have 
the  money  come  round  eventually  to  her. 

It  was,  however,  Catherine  Hamilton  who  convinced 
her  that  she  could  justly  keep  it. 

[  340  ] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

It  was  a  trial  to  Catherine  to  be  obliged,  when  speaking 
of  the  Leitzels  to  Margaret,  always  to  curb  her  tongue 
to  a  hypocritical  form  of  respect  for  them;  for  Margaret 
would  not  countenance  any  reflections  upon  them.  So 
Catherine's  remarks,  in  the  present  instance,  though 
clearly  conveying  her  meaning,  were  veiled. 

"Do  you  think,  Margaret,  that  the  Leitzels,  for  their 
own  spiritual  discipline,  ought  to  lose  or  get  that  money? 
Was  old  Mrs.  Leitzel  wise  or  wrong  in  willing  it  away  from 
them?  Will  you  be  wronging  or  helping  their  immortal 
souls — if  they  have  any,"  Catherine  ventured  rather  fear- 
fully to  add,  "if  you  give  it  back  to  them?  Another  thing: 
you  have  already  learned  enough  about  married  life  to 
know  that  only  in  economic  independence  can  a  woman 
have  any  moral  or  spiritual  freedom;  can  she  be  a  personal- 
ity in  herself,  distinct  from  her  husband's.  With  all  this 
money  of  your  own,  you  will  be  free  to  control  the  educa- 
tion of  your  children  as  you  could  not  if  your  husband's 
money  had  to  pay  for  their  education.  Of  course,  in  most 
cases,  I  suppose  mothers  and  fathers  have  no  difficulty  in 
agreeing  perfectly  about  their  children's  education;  but 
when  they  differ  radically,  what  a  boon  to  a  conscientious 
mother  to  have  means  at  her  command  to  do  for  her 
children  what  she  thinks  essential  for  their  welfare  in  life! 
My  dear,  it's  the  solution  of  the  whole  confounded  'woman 
movement'  that  women  shall  be  freed  from  an  economic 
slavery  which  balks  their  efficiency  as  mothers,  as  citizens, 
and  even  as  wives.  Also,  with  all  this  money  of  your  own, 
think  what  you  can  do  to  help  me  capitalize  and  organize 
my  ideal  school  for  girls !  Why,  I  can  begin  next  week ! " 

[341] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

"And  we  will  begin  next  week !  I've  thought  of  another 
thing:  I  can  now  use  the  money  Uncle  Osmond  left  me 
to  help  educate  Hattie's  children.  She  and  Walter  are 
the  sort  that  will  never  be  affluent.  They  care  too  little 
about  money  ever  to  acquire  any." 

"And  you  can  have  an  automobile  of  your  own  in  which 
you  will  now  and  then  take  my  mother  out  for  an  airing 
to  her  great  benefit!"  added  Catherine. 

"It  shall  be  at  her  disposal,"  declared  Margaret. 

Another  thing  had  occurred  to  her  while  Catherine  had 
been  speaking :  Daniel,  she  knew,  would  never  allow  her  a 
just  portion  of  his  wealth  for  the  upkeep  of  their  home  and 
the  rearing  of  their  children.  Every  dollar  of  his  that  she 
spent  would  have  to  be  discussed  and  argued  about.  This 
fortune  which  Mrs.  Leitzel  had  left  to  her  was  really 
only  her  fair  share  in  her  husband's  possessions,  which  she 
could  use  freely  and  quite  independently  of  him. 

When  once  she  was  convinced  that  she  was  justified  in 
keeping  the  money,  the  frenzied  raging  of  the  Leitzels 
affected  her  not  at  all,  though  Hiram's  fury  and  agony 
carried  him  to  the  length  of  telling  her  to  her  face 
that  she  was  stealing  the  money  (his  own  mother's 
money)  from  his  children  to  give  it  to  her  own  son  and 
daughter. 

As  for  Daniel,  his  chagrin  over  his  step-mother's  will 
swung  round,  in  the  end,  to  a  chuckling  glee  over  his  wife's 
cleverness. 

"After  all,  Margaret,  you  do  have  some  business  ability! 
I  declare  you  outwitted  us  all  with  the  cute  way  you 
managed  to  get  things  into  your  own  hands !  That  wasn't 

[  342  ] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

a  bad  deal,  my  dear,  not  at  all  a  bad  deal,  and  I  shouldn't 
have  supposed  it  was  in  you!  You  seemed  to  care  so 
little  for  money !  And  to  think  that  all  the  while  you  were 
working  such  a  clever  scheme  as  this !  Well,  I  knew  when 
I  decided  to  marry  you  that  you  weren't  stupid.  I  trust 
that  Daniel  Junior  will  inherit  the  joint  business  acumen 
of  his  mother  and  father.  He'll  be  some  business  man  if 
he  does,  won't  he?" 

"God  forbid!"  was  Margaret's  reply,  which  Daniel 
thought  quite  idiotically  irrelevant.  But  he  was  ceasing 
to  try  to  understand  what  seemed  to  him  his  wife's  unex- 
plainable  inconsistencies. 

He  even  came,  in  time,  to  submit,  without  fretting,  to 
Margaret's  ideas  of  running  a  household;  finding  her  in- 
novations, which  had  at  first  seemed  to  him  madly  extrav- 
agant, to  be  as  necessary  to  his  comfort  and  convenience 
as  to  hers.  But  he  never  did  get  so  used  to  them  as  to 
cease  to  feel  an  immense  pride  in  what  Jennie  and  Sadie 
called  "Margaret's  tony  ways."  He  always  covertly 
watched  the  faces  of  guests  in  his  home  (for  they  had 
guests  now)  to  note  wonder  and  admiration  at  the  elegance 
of  its  appointments,  the  formal  service  at  meals,  the  dainty 
tea  table  brought  into  the  parlour  every  day  at  five,  and 
the  many  other  fastidious  trifles  introduced  into  their  daily 
life. 

It  is  to  be  noted  that  though  the  intimacy  of  Catherine 
and  Margaret  continued  throughout  their  lives,  Catherine 
never  once  found  courage  to  put  to  her  friend  and  con- 
fidante the  question  to  which  she  could  not,  in  her  knowl- 
edge of  Margaret's  character,  find  any  answer:  "What 

[343] 


HER  HUSBAND'S  PURSE 

in  the  world  was  it  that  ever  induced  you  to  marry  Daniel 
Leitzel?" 

It  was  only  through  motherhood,  which  was  to  Margare 
her  religion,  that  she  learned,  among  other  great  lessons, 
how  mistaken  she  had  been  in  selling  herself  for  a  home. 
And  the  paramount  ideal  which  she  always  held  up  to  her 
boy  and  girl,  as  being  the  foundation  of  everything  that 
was  worth  while  in  life,  was  the  highest  conception  of 
mated  love  which  she  could  possibly  give  them. 


THE    END 


A     000110722 


